You're Just Different Now, and There's Nothing Wrong with That
by Jmags-WriterofAwesomeness
Summary: Jemma returns from Maveth dehydrated, starving, and obviously traumatized. Although in denial about her condition, diagnosed as PTSD, she struggles with the constant nightmares, distractions, and nagging self-doubt that plague her. Thankfully, a supportive team is all she needs to help her back on her feet. A depiction of Jemma Simmons's recovery from PTSD.
1. Chapter 1

_So I haven't written fanfiction in about a year or so, but I've been lurking around the fandom for a couple of months now reading every FitzSimmons story I can get my hands on, and watching "Purpose in the Machine" somehow managed to break me out of my long writing slump. This is my first AOS fanfic, so go easy on me! I'm not exactly a literary prowess, but I'm a huge grammar natzi and a sucker for good vocabulary so that does come in handy lol._

 _First of all, just wanted to put out there a trigger warning for PTSD, since that will be the primary focus of this story. Also, I can't really promise fast updates since the reason I stopped writing in the first place was because of how busy college has been keeping me. So don't be surprised if I don't update for weeks or months on end. All and all, I hope you'll enjoy the story, which I'm expecting to be at least 3-4 chapters at the shortest!_

* * *

As soon as Jemma fell asleep in the containment bed, Fitz settled himself on the floor and wearily rested his head against the polytechnic wall. That night, Fitz slept peacefully for the first time in months. The amount of time that Jemma had been stuck on that far-away planet put Fitz in a state that he hadn't descended into since their days at the Academy- nights composed of countless hours whittling away in the lab, testing one hypothesis after another, never stopping to rest unless it was absolutely necessary. During those times, it wasn't an unusual occurrence for Jemma or one of his classmates to find him passed out on his work bench with his folders full of blueprints and data printouts acting as a pillow. Even during Fitz's time on the Quinjet, the other agents occasionally stumbled upon his new "bedroom" after he spent late nights working in the lab.

In those days, the victories of his accomplishments were entirely short-lived; getting a good grade (which happened almost all the time for FitzSimmons) ceased to be a surprising, joyful event and even when Fitz completed an assignment for Coulson, there was always another one to be completed and there was no time to rest.

But this was most certainly not the case for Simmons's disappearance. For Fitz, the outcome was either life or death. For the brilliant yet somewhat-damaged engineer, it was either he would have his best friend back coupled with the possibility of building a future together or that he would have to live the rest of his life without her. And that was an outcome that Fitz couldn't bear to think about, for fear that his heart would crumble into a million pieces if the latter had happened and the outcome had matched the words written on the scroll: "Death."

If only his fellow agents knew his ulterior motive for attempting to aggravate the monolith into liquefying again besides using it as a trigger for the outpouring of his pent-up anger and grief. Fitz had almost let out a bitter laugh when Hunter had exclaimed "You could've gotten yourself killed!" but it was a risk Fitz was willing to take if it meant he ended up in the same place as Jemma.

All that adrenaline and energy usage had suddenly made Fitz extremely tired without him even knowing, and the sleep debt he had incurred over the months propelled him to crash into a heavy, dreamless sleep. No more horrifying nightmares about Jemma being trapped in the stone or about her dying some painful, gruesome death on another planet. She was here, sleeping near him. She was safe.

Finally, he had brought Jemma home.

* * *

There was only one emotion that constantly plagued Simmons's mind while she was trapped on the alien planet: fear. It took on too many forms for her to count in her smart, but now-traumatized brain. The fear of being stuck on the planet forever, fear of being caught by the beast on its relentless journey to taste human flesh, fear of collapsing and slowly dying of hunger and dehydration, fear of something bad happening to the people she cared about the most while she was gone... the list would have gone on forever.

Her worst fear, though she couldn't always get herself to admit it, was never seeing Fitz again. She knew how badly he had coped with her leaving SHIELD to become a mole embedded inside of Hydra. And after she had finally admitted she returned his feelings for her...she couldn't imagine what turmoil her disappearance had put him through.

She had never really realized the true meaning of "Absence makes the heart grow fonder" until the monolith had captured her and transported her there. Fitz had been such a constant in her life that she had never imagined a time where he would potentially be gone forever. Every time she went to sleep, she half-expected him to be there in the morning, waking her up with some ramble about the new Dr. Who episode that aired last night or surprising her with tea and biscuits after a hard day of work. But alas, despite her strongest wishes and hopes, he was never there, only appearing sporadically as a ghost in her dreams.

She knew deep down inside that she loved Fitz, but it didn't become absolutely clear to her until he had pulled her through the portal just before the monolith was destroyed. She figured Fitz would go to great lengths to save her, but the fact that he risked his life by going into the portal after her still amazed her.

But she couldn't articulate those feelings. Not yet, anyway. Especially when her whole sense of being was trapped in a nightmare.

It was more like a flashback, really, her constantly running away from that hideous beast that wouldn't leave her alone. It all seemed too familiar now, like she was still stuck in that blue-lit hell. She could still hear the pounding of heavy feet behind her as she ran for her life across the desolate, sandy terrain. She could feel her lungs running out of air, her chest aching painfully as she zigzagged back and forth before hiding behind a thin, tall rock. She sighed in relief as her back slid down the rock, her legs practically giving out from underneath her. Her heart and breathing rates had finally started to stabilize when the beast came out of nowhere and lunged at her.

 _"No!"_

Jemma gasped and choked back a scream as she was jolted out of her sleep, and she immediately whipped out a sharpened piece of metal that she had hidden underneath the pillow when no one was looking. It took at least ten seconds for her vision to clear and for her to realize she wasn't on the planet anymore. However, despite this realization, the fear held its grip around her heart like a vice and her trembling hand still clutched the homemade spike tightly as she observed her surroundings.

The containment chamber itself was dark, but some light from outside was shining in through the window, creating a small lamp on the floor. She used this light to frantically look for something familiar, something to reassure her that she was home, but all she saw were sterile surfaces and an empty room with no homey touches. She was on the verge of having a full-blown panic attack until she saw Fitz sleeping on the floor.

Her frenzied mind couldn't send out the signals to make her smile, but a rush of relief and fondness flooded her senses. She could tell Fitz had changed a bit from the little time she had spent going in and out of shock, but she still noticed little details that were the same, like how he always slept with his mouth half-open and how his hair was still as curly as it had been since the last time she saw him, when he had asked her out to dinner.

 _Going out to dinner. That's something I haven't thought about it a while._

Still trembling a bit from the nightmare, she gingerly released her weapon and got out of her bed, lowering herself down to the floor and laying her head gently on Fitz's thigh. Catching his familiar scent of copper and musk-scented cotton, she let out a shaky breath that she had been holding in for far too long. To make sure that he was actually here and wasn't a part of a homesick-induced hallucination, she placed her hand in front of her face and gently squeezed his thigh. When she felt flesh and bone underneath her hand, it immediately stopped trembling.

 _This isn't a dream. You're home, Simmons. You're safe now and whatever was out there before can't hurt you again._

That's what she imagined Fitz would say if he was awake right now. And in her heart, she knew that his comforting words would be accurate. However, she could never make herself believe it; not anytime soon, anyway.

Because it was still out there, whimpering for her flesh, jumping at the chance to continue the chase at whatever cost.

 _You don't know that for sure. Wherever it is now, it's still out to get me. And it won't stop until it gets what it wants._

Six month on the run had taught her that very valuable lesson.

 _But Fitz is here. He'll keep me safe. Because he loves me._

And those words lingered in her mind as she drifted into yet another fitful, ephemeral sleep.

* * *

 _Please review if you would like to do so, and thanks for reading! :)_


	2. Stage 1: Fight or Flight

_Well, it looks like the most recent episode has made many other fanfiction writers come out into the open besides me. To me, it seems like all of these stories are starting to sound the same, so it's a little intimidating writing about a popular topic. I have read up a little bit on PTSD though and have written my story based on what I personally think Simmons could experience while she's recovering. I hope you'll like it!_

* * *

It wasn't until late in the morning that Fitz woke up from his slumber. The lights around the containment chamber weren't as bright as they usually were, but that didn't stop him from groaning and rubbing the sand out of his eyes.

He leaned his head back against the cold wall and closed his eyes, slowly absorbing the events of last night. An Asgardian scientist had shown them the key piece to unlocking the secrets of the monolith, and Daisy had been able to open it. He had jumped through the portal, _traveled to a different planet_ , and had somehow been able to pull Jemma through the portal before Daisy unintentionally pulverized it.

If he had told his old flatmates this story ten years ago, they would've looked at him like he had suddenly grown two heads. Very few people believed in aliens before Loki and his Chiutari army had tried to take over New York City. Now Inhumans were popping up all over the place and things just kept getting weirder and more dangerous every day.

His world was changing faster than he could ever imagine, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to keep up with it.

But he had to. Not only for Coulson and the rest of the world's sake, but for the people he cared about most: his mother, his younger sister Mary, Mack, Daisy, Jemma...especially for Jemma.

 _Simmons is fine. No radiation, no infection, no life-threatening physical injuries were found on her. She'll be cleared to work again before you know it, Fitz._

He knew Bobbi had told him that in hopes that it would make him feel better, but Fitz was far from the point of wanting to be coddled. Dr. Garner had already told him the diagnosis in advance so that he could prepare for the worst: Simmons had post-traumatic stress disorder. Her prolonged exposure to a foreign place with limited resources and the possibility of starvation and death around every corner had put her in a state where her fight-or-flight emergency response was utilized so often that even the most routine activities could set her off. It could take her months to over a year to recover, and there was no guarantee that she would return to the Simmons he knew so well anytime soon, if at all.

Change had always scared Fitz, but he had been determined to conquer that fear ever since he had set foot into the lab for the very first time after the incident in the pod underwater. Simmons had eventually accepted him for who he became after his encounter with hypoxia, and now it was his turn to help Simmons through this new experience.

He would do whatever it would take for Jemma to feel normal and happy again.

A faint pressure on his leg startled Fitz out of his thoughts, and he was surprised to see her sleeping on the ground next to him while using his leg as a pillow. Concerned, he rested his hand on her arm, stroking gently down in a soothing manner. _Bloody hell, Jemma, that doesn't look comfortable at all._

"Jemma," he said softly. "Are you awake yet?"

He watched as she slowly opened her eyes and lifted her head up slightly to stare up at him. Depending on her mood, her answer would either be chirpy and cheerful or sarcastic and grumpy whenever he asked her that question in the past, but this time all he saw was confusion and something else that he couldn't quite put his finger on. "I...I think so."

She cautiously placed her hand on his shoulder, then moved her hand up so she could stroke the stubble on his cheek. "Am I dreaming this, Fitz? Are you really here?" Her voice wobbled as she struggled to get the words out, and a lone tear made a watery trek down her cheek.

A pang of empathy gripped his heart as he briefly recalled the days where he had hallucinated Simmons's presence, and his rough, calloused hand rose to intertwine his fingers with the cold, dainty ones resting on his cheek. "Yes, Jemma. I'm here. You're safe now. Nothing is going to hurt you here."

The warmth of his skin seemed to comfort her, giving her enough energy to sit up and rest her head on his shoulder. "But Ward is still out there, Fitz. And so is the ATCU and the new Inhumans and everything else..."

Fitz chuckled and squeezed her shoulder. "And how do you know all about these things even though you just came back?"

"Overheard Bobbi talking on the phone with Hunter after she completed my medical analysis," Simmons murmured.

He couldn't help but smile at her response. He knew that she always wanted to be the first one to know what was going on so she could meticulously analyze the situation and determine what needed to get done. "Some things never change," he said softly to himself, grasping at any hint of reassurance.

"But I have."

Surprised that Jemma had heard him, he whipped his head around to find that she had pulled away from him. Her legs were crossed in front of her and she was looking down at her folded hands in despair. "I...I have seen things that no other human has lived to describe." Her hands shook slightly, no matter how much she silently begged them to stop. "And I've been alone for so long that none of this seems real."

Out of nowhere, she gasped. "How long have I been gone, Fitz?"

He paused, knowing that he should heed to Dr. Garner's advice and give her as little detail as possible about her disappearance. However, he knew that she would probably never forgive him if she found out he had willingly withheld valuable information from her...again.

She deserved to know the truth. "Six months."

Jemma's mouth dropped open. "Oh god." Her hands flew to her face. "What about my parents? Do they know what happened?"

Fitz took in a deep breath. "Coulson was about to tell them you were missing in action, but he never got the chance to contact them before we rescued you. Your original cover was that you were temporarily reassigned to a top-secret SHIELD base in Russia where nearly any contact with you would be impossible. They haven't heard from you since."

The first lesson Fitz learned that day: never defy a psychologist's orders.

* * *

It took him at least ten minutes to calm Simmons into a docile state after that; she had spent the first half of that time frantically talking to her parents on his cellphone and the second half dissolving into tears in Fitz's arms as he tried to calm her down.

Coulson would never approve of letting Jemma contact her parents without his permission first, but Fitz knew that once Jemma had her heart set on something, she wouldn't take no for an answer. At least, to his relief, she did not mention the monolith and being stuck on an alien planet for half a year.

Skye, er, Daisy had been on her way to check up on Joey that morning when Fitz contacted her about Simmons's condition and that he needed her to keep her company while he got her breakfast.. Even though Daisy had been under the influence of the monolith while she was manipulating it with her powers, she was incredibly relieved when she found out that Simmons had made it back safely.

Aside from Fitz, everyone had dealt with the grief of Simmons's disappearance differently. Bobbi would sit silently on her gurney or in her wheelchair, wishing that she had a solid pair of nunchucks to work out her anger with, while Hunter downed a couple of shots of strong whiskey every now and then. Mack had thrown his energy completely into his work, simultaneously helping Daisy develop the Secret Warriors recruitment project while keeping a glaring, steady eye on the monolith and other alien objects. And Coulson, being the director of SHIELD, was too consumed with making sure SHIELD didn't fall apart again to even have time to let Simmons's absence affect him- but that didn't mean he didn't use his new mechanical hand to angrily knock over objects in his office every now and then.

Because Coulson figured out early on that Daisy had a hard time controlling her powers whenever she got upset, he had tasked FitzSimmons with the job of creating a model for a room that would let Daisy use her powers however she wanted without the risk of putting the rest of the team in danger; the result was a relatively small space that was surrounded by exceedingly thick walls of rock that would encourage the attenuation of earthquake waves. Daisy had spent a lot of time in that room after Simmons was gone, letting her powers attack the walls with a vengeance while she screamed at the top of her lungs. Sometimes, it got so intense that the helicarrier would shake a little bit, giving the other agents a bit of an idea of what she was up to at the time.

She missed Jemma, that much was clear. She had never forgotten how Jemma had saved her after she had been shot by Ian Quinn and how attuned she always was to even the subtlest of changes in Daisy's physical and mental health. Jemma had always been there for her whenever she was suffering and even when her DNA results came back abnormal, Jemma still had the best of intentions when she had given Daisy those gloves before Coulson sent her to the safe house in the woods. And despite the fact that Daisy was the one to open the portal for Simmons to travel back through in the first place, she never really forgave herself for the fact that she gave up on Jemma so soon.

But she didn't have a choice at the time; there was too much that had to be done. Inhumans were accumulating at a much faster rate than was expected and Coulson had emphasized that they needed to detect and extract those beings as soon as possible. Dwelling on something that was out of her control wouldn't help her obtain the skills she needed to become a leader of a team with powers; Dr. Garner had made that very clear in one of his impromptu "therapy sessions" with her. So she inevitably accepted the current circumstances and focused on the job that had to get done.

Given all that had happened over the past six months, the least she could do was see how Simmons was doing. And, most importantly of all, apologize for her grievances.

As soon as Fitz messaged her saying that Simmons wanted to see her, she couldn't help but smile at the thought of talking to her friend again. As she passed by the rec room, she stopped to ask Mack to check on Joey for her, to which he replied "Sure thing, Tremors," while he finished his game of Call of Duty.

Daisy saw Fitz across from the containment chamber in the little kitchenette, and he gave her a little nod as their eyes met. She then peeked through one of the chamber windows and knocked gently on the glass. Startled, Jemma uncurled her knees from her chest and the corners of have mouth turned up. "Skye!" she exclaimed, the joy of finally having interaction with other humans coursing through her veins. "I'm so glad to see you."

Cringing a little bit at the use of her old name, the former hacktavist slipped through the door soundlessly, letting it click shut softly behind her. "It's Daisy now, actually."

"Oh, because of Cal and Jiaying." Jemma nodded in understanding.

Daisy hummed in agreement, walking over to Jemma's bed and taking a seat across from her on the plush comforter. "How are you doing?"

Jemma attempted to smile while playing aimlessly with her hair, but Daisy sensed the emptiness in the gesture. "I've been better. Just getting used to being back and everything, I guess."

She sighed and adjusted her ponytail one last time before speaking again. "I heard that you were able to open the portal so that I could come through."

Daisy nodded her head. "Fitz was the one that figured out that I could use my powers to disrupt the portal though."

"But you made it happen, Sky-Daisy," Jemma corrected herself. She grasped Daisy's hand, comforted by the warmth transferring to her own cold, clammy skin. "I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you for reuniting me and Fitz and bringing me home again."

Upon hearing that last sentence, Daisy's guilty conscious consumed her. "You don't have to, Simmons," she said, failing to notice how the former biochemist bristled at the use of her last name. "I'm just glad you're okay."

And then the words just came rushing out of her mouth like a waterfall, explaining what Coulson had told her to do and how she had given up hope that Simmons would ever come back. When she was done, both of their eyes were filled with unshed tears. "I am so, so sorry, Jemma." Daisy sniffed, taking a cold hand between her warm ones. "I'll always be here for you. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me someday."

"Of course I can forgive you, Skye." Despite her amplified emotions, Jemma wasn't an irrational person; if she had been in Daisy's position, she would have done the exact same thing and would have chosen to do what was best for the team.

Daisy was so taken aback by Jemma's response that she didn't even bother to correct her about her name. She hugged her tightly and noticed for the first time how frail Jemma felt beneath her sweater, and she loosened her grip on her in response. "I'm so glad you're back," Daisy said before letting go of Jemma. She stood up and put her hand on Jemma's shoulder. "Call me if you ever need to talk to someone, okay?"

Jemma smiled and nodded, hiding the truth behind her closed, chapped lips. Daisy was the closest thing she had to a sister, but the only person she was really interested in talking to right now was Fitz. Although Daisy had the best of intentions with her visit, Jemma was swayed by how much "Skye" had changed. Her hair was cut shorter and her stature had taken on a more muscular tone. Her personality had changed a bit since Simmons had left and now she had even changed her name too. As much as Simmons wanted to interact more with Daisy, all the changes reminded her of how much time she had actually spent on the other planet.

It was all too much for her, she realized too little, too late.

She suddenly felt the familiar feeling of her heart pulsing wildly inside her chest. Every time she tried to breathe, her quickening heartbeat prevented her from doing so. She grabbed a hold of a pillow behind her, clutching it tightly to her chest as she rocked back and forth on her bed, screaming and thrashing internally against the all-consuming fear that had instantly flooded her senses, begging for Fitz to come back so that the mental torture could end.

* * *

Meanwhile, Fitz was preparing a small plate of earl grey tea and biscuits for Simmons when he heard soft footsteps behind him. "You did it, Fitz. You got Simmons back."

He turned around to find Bobbi leaning casually against the door frame. "Yeah," he responded, grinning. "I'm glad that Daisy was able to hold the portal open for as long as she did."

Bobbi walked to the refrigerator to grab herself a bottle of water while Fitz stirred a teaspoon of sugar into the cup of tea. "How's Simmons holding up?"

The teaspoon clanked against the porcelain. "She seems to be doing okay, considering the circumstances. It is her first day back, after all. She woke up just a little bit ago."

Bobbi leaned against the countertop and screwed the cap off her water bottle, taking a large sip from it. "You know she's not going to be back working in the lab right away, right?"

"Yes Bobbi, I know that," he said, exasperated. He wasn't stupid; of course Simmons wasn't going to go back to work right away. Hell, he could barely get anything to work properly even months after he had woken up out of his coma; although Jemma's situation was drastically different, he assumed it would follow a similar pattern to his recovery

Bobbi knew he would get defensive. She had seen the mixture of confusion and hope in his facial expression when he had exited Simmons's containment chamber. It was the same mix of emotions she had felt before Coulson told her she had to stay in rehab for a minimum of eight months before she could go out into the field again. If Fitz kept getting his hopes up with Simmons like he had in the past, it could lead to another mental breakdown.

And Bobbi sure as hell didn't want to witness an event like Fitz screaming at the monolith ever again.

"We don't know what she went through on that planet, Fitz. For all we know she may never want to work in the lab again because of the whole experience."

Fitz squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shut out Bobbi's words. What in the world would Simmons do if she didn't have science in her life? Would she have to leave the team and go back home?

Well _that_ better not happen because after everything he went through to save her, he never wanted her out of his sight again, aside from completing short, simple everyday tasks that required the actions of one person. He had sacrificed too much while working with SHIELD for it all to go to waste now.

"We have to accept that she'll probably never be the same again. I know it's hard to think about, but it's just something we have to accept at the moment," Bobbi continued. She put her water down and walked over to stand next to him. "No matter what has happened to her, she's going to be alright."

"I know," Fitz said quickly, turning his attention back to preparing the tea and biscuits. "By the way, thanks for covering for me all that time. I really appreciate it."

Not surprised that he had changed the subject, Bobbi smiled. "You're welcome."

A thought popped into her mind as she watched Fitz pick up the plate and walk towards the door. "You really do love her, don't you?"

Fitz turned around, responding softly without hesitation. "Of course I do."

* * *

The breakfast plate wobbled in his bad hand, but it didn't stop him from knocking on the door and simultaneously opening it. The door to the containment chambers were set to never lock unless there was an emergency, due to Daisy arguing that locking the door would make new Inhumans feel like they were being "put on display" like rare museum pieces. There was also no handle, just a sliding motion from side to side, and it was controlled by a fingerprint scanner on the outside so that only certain people could enter while the Inhumans were being quarantined. And it certainly came in handy while a person was carrying things. "Hey Jemma, I made your favorite for breakfas-"

His eyes widened and he almost dropped the plate as he witnessed Jemma whimpering and hyperventilating into her pillow. He barely got the words "Oh god" out of his mouth before he was at her side, gently removing the pillow from her vice-like grip and rubbing her back soothingly.

"Jemma? Jemma. Breathe for me, deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Everything is going to be okay," he said, convincing her to get her head out of the pillow.

She attempted to take his advice and closed her eyes, struggling to get the air into her lungs. Still panicked, she stared at Fitz, her brown eyes clouded with tears and terror. Not wanting to scare her more, he took his time putting his hands on her shoulders and making direct eye contact with her. "I'm here now. You're safe. I won't leave you again, I promise."

Seeing Fitz's blue eyes clearly in her vision evoked a sense of familiarity in her, and to Fitz's relief she started to calm down. After she had started to breathe normally, she wiped her eyes and scarlet seeped furiously into her cheeks upon realizing what had just happened. "Oh god, I'm so sorry Fitz, I don't know what came over me but it was awful."

Ashamed of his foolish mistake, Fitz pressed his lips together, forming a straight line. "No, I'm the one who should be sorry. I should've never have left you alone in the first place."

"But Daisy was here while you were gone," Jemma insisted. "You didn't leave me alone."

"I didn't, but I also didn't know she would be a trigger for you. I thought seeing a familiar face would make you happy."

"And it did, Fitz. I was very happy to see her again. But I also didn't know that she had-"

"-changed." He finished her sentence for her.

"A lot, yes," she agreed.

"A lot has happened here in six months while you were gone, Jemma," he said, continuing to avert his gaze down at his lap in shame. "I'm not going to lie to you about that."

When his eyes met hers again, Jemma was surprised to find a lone tear trickling down his cheek. "But we're going to get through this," he reassured her, grabbing her hand and entwining their fingers together. "Together."

"Together," Jemma repeated. She flashed a ghost of a smile at him and he pulled her into a tight hug, letting the tear fall into the fabric of her green sweater.

There was one thing he knew for certain now: Jemma was far from being okay.

And no matter how much of his time it took up, he was going to do everything in his power to make sure that she wasn't living in fear anymore.

* * *

"Stay. Please."

That was all Jemma could muster by the end of the day. Drained by the strong emotions that had consumed her all day, she patted at a spot next to her with pleading eyes.

Originally preparing a sleeping space on the floor, Fitz stopped what he was doing and glanced at the empty spot of the bed. "Okay."

He slowly got up off the floor and slid underneath the covers next to her. She snuggled into his chest as he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close.

"Everything's going to be okay," he murmured into her temple. Hearing his words as his breath tickled her ear, she sighed contentedly and he felt her muscles relax into him.

If only she knew he had been saying those words for his own reassurance this time.

* * *

 _I wanted to get this chapter done before the next episode aired, so I hope you enjoyed it! Also, thanks to amandajbruce for looking over my story and making sure I was heading in the right direction with it._


	3. Stage 2: Numbness and Denial

_Okay, was I the only one squealing like a little girl when Fitz finally took Simmons out for that long-awaited nice dinner? It was so fricking adorable! I felt so bad for her when she started crying though :/._

 _Speaking of that, if people are wondering whether I'll try and include moments from recent episodes in here, the answer is yes, if I feel like it would be appropriate and would contribute to the story. However, as always, I will try to change it up a bit so it's not like you're "watching" the same episode again. But I will say that it's easier for me to write when I have other material to build off of, if that answers your question. Happy reading!_

* * *

It was nine o'clock in the morning when Simmons woke up. One week after her rescue, she had managed to finally develop a routine for herself that didn't startle her half to death every time she made a move.

Oddly enough, it was the mundane tasks that exhausted her the most. She felt dead on her feet every time she got out of bed and walked around her new living quarters. By the time it got dark outside, she was fast asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. As much as she wished that the temporary dive into her subconscious wasn't so treacherous (the nightmares just got worse with every passing day), she knew that at least her malnourished, debilitated body appreciated the well-deserved rest.

The day before, Jemma had met with Dr. Garner for the first time since he cleared her after her return and he had seemed pleased with her significant yet slow progress. After such a traumatic event, a slow and steady recovery was to be expected. Her panic attacks and crying spells had decreased a bit in frequency, but her emotions were still on the fritz, continuing to mess with her amygdale and frustrating her to no end. The constant mood swings were not just bothersome, but they also were the reason why her energy was depleted so rapidly during the day.

The shower connected to her bedroom was very drab, which was something that Jemma was actually thankful for, especially since certain colors were known to stimulate the mind more than others. Dark green tiles surrounded her as she closed the door behind her and slowly untied her white, fuzzy robe.

She turned on the water and leaned against the cool tiles as she waited for the water to get warm. Although the sound of water was supposed to be soothing, hearing the droplets aggressively hit the shower walls put her in a state of unease. However, once she was in the shower, she absorbed herself in the comfort of the heat and let her troubled mind detach from her tumultuous reality.

Jemma treaded carefully when she got out of the shower. Due to the gravitational difference between Earth and the planet she had been on before, her individual steps were always uneasy, shaky, and cautious. Her body was used to the weightlessness of the other planet and adjusting to the gravitational pull of Earth had proven to be much harder than she had expected it to be- now every step that she took was a struggle. And the possibility of slipping on wet, slick bathroom tiles after showering- well, that quickly became a perilous journey all on its own.

At least she had finally accomplished one thing during the first week of her recovery: dressing herself. The feeling of soft, warm material encompassing her as she pulled on her white t-shirt, green hoodie, and tan khaki pants (all conveniently loaned to her by Fitz) was comforting to her, a small victory over all the various daily struggles she now had to face. Every action was a new beginning, a chance for something to go horribly wrong or a chance for her to prove that she could finally complete an action without breaking down into tears.

In other words, she was starting on a clean slate and it terrified her to no end.

* * *

Aside from the brief visit to Dr. Garner's office, today was her first day exiting her containment chamber and getting herself accustomed to the feel of Zephyr One. Jemma was reluctant at first, but Fitz convinced her that it would be a step in the right direction in terms of her recovery. She agreed to let him show her around with one condition: he had to physically hold her hand so she wouldn't lose her balance and embarrass herself in front of everyone. Relieved at her response, he was more than happy to abide to her wishes.

Since this was Jemma's first time being on the new plane, Fitz knew that the sleek, new architecture was going to be a lot for her to take in. He took his time in strolling around, directing Jemma's attention to specific areas and objects to focus on in order to prevent her from becoming too overwhelmed; however, he kept his distance from the rooms that emitted a lot of noise, knowing very well that she wasn't even close to handling that much sensory information yet.

Because he didn't know how Jemma was going to react upon seeing the lab again, Fitz saved it as the last destination on their tour. So far, he hadn't seen her show any real interest towards the new additions that Fitz had designed for the plane, only occasionally flinching at small, sudden noises. He secretly hoped that showing her the lab that she used to work in at the Playground may jumpstart her interest in science again, especially because she failed to be intrigued by any of the science magazines he had given her.

As promised, he held her hand as she used the steel lab bench to steady herself as she walked around, meekly taking in her surroundings. "Now this is a sight for sore eyes!" Bobbi exclaimed cheerfully as Fitz and Simmons came into her line of sight.

"I thought it would be good for her to get back into the lab, let her see her old workspace," Fitz explained. Jemma, however, responded (unintentionally) with a grimace, disoriented by everything whirring and clinking in the background.

"Is that it?" Jemma asked Bobbi, her eyes connecting with the black piles of crushed rock spread out on another lab bench behind her.

"Yes, it used to be the portal. Now it's just a pile of space rocks."

"I've run a complete and exhaustive set of diagnostics on it, so I can assure you that there's nothing to worry about," Fitz added.

Simmons tried to pay attention to the words being spoken to her, but she could barely hear them over the clamor of the lab. Hearing Bobbi's phone buzz only added to her discomfort, making her shudder noticeably enough for Fitz to become concerned.

"You ok?" Fitz's hand on her shoulder slowly brought her back to reality.

"I'm fine," Jemma said softly, squeezing her eyes shut for a brief second. When she opened them, she seemed to look right through Fitz, like he wasn't even there. He had expected her to be at least a little interested in what was going on around them, but her demeanor seemed...empty, devoid of any child-like curiosity that she used to have when she and Fitz started working for Coulson.

Bobbi put down her clipboard and dug her phone out of her pocket. "Sorry, it's Hunter. He's on a Ward hunt. This will just take a second."

Having not forgotten what Ward had done to Bobbi while the rest of the team was out fighting the Inhumans, Jemma nodded. Again, her face lacked any emotional reaction to the news. "Say hi," were her only parting words to Bobbi. Even though she couldn't get the sincerity to show on her face, Bobbi could at least hear it in her voice.

Bobbi smiled. "Will do."

As Bobbi moved to a quieter space to take her phone call, Fitz led Jemma to an isolated corner of the lab. "Hey look," Fitz murmured, nudging her gently while gesturing over to her old desk. "Just as you left it. No one has touched it since you left, not even Coulson or Bobbi-"

His sentence was interrupted by a gasp as Jemma's gaze flew to the scientist working with the round-bottom flask behind Fitz. Her eyes were suddenly bright, wide with a flickering moment of panic. "What is it?" he asked, confused.

"It's just that...that I...um," Jemma stammered, trying to come up with the right words to describe how she was currently feeling. "I'm just not accustomed to this many distractions."

"Understandable." Fitz directed his gaze down at the ground. "Well, I imagine you must've had quite a lot to take in, with all the extraterrestrial materials and specimens to examine-"

"My curiosity faded once the fear set in," Jemma corrected.

She felt bad once she saw the realization and guilt hit Fitz's face, but she had to tell him the truth: the alien planet hadn't exactly served as a biochemistry playground for her enjoyment while she was stuck there.

"Right. No-yeah, of course..." It was Fitz's turn to stammer this time. He rubbed his eyes, hoping it would somehow make his mind clearer so he could see things from Jemma's perspective. "I'm sorry."

Jemma sighed. "I have to admit, all of this is a little much. Would you mind?"

"Should I get Bobbi?" he asked, pointing in the direction in which she had traveled.

"No, it's fine. It's just a little disorientation, attributable to oxidative stress."

Oh. Now he understood. She just didn't want to be in the lab anymore. "Okay. I'll just take you back to your room then."

He took Simmons's hand and they started walking towards the exit. As much as Fitz tried to hide it from her, Jemma could see that Fitz was crestfallen about her apparent indifference. "I hope you're not too disappointed," she commented, squeezing his hand gently.

Fitz managed to give a small, encouraging smile. "No, on the contrary you're self-diagnosing, which means you're on the mend."

Once they reached her room, Fitz stopped outside the door. "It's almost lunchtime. Would you like me to make you something to eat?" he asked, still holding her hand.

"No thanks, maybe later," she replied, although Fitz swore that her eyes lit up at the mention of food. "I just want to be alone for a little bit, if that's alright."

Fitz knew that at this point in her recovery, alone time would be good for her, but he couldn't help but feel hurt that she no longer wanted to spend time with him. "Sure, do whatever you think is best," he said reassuringly, trying to hide the faint air of dismay in his reply.

Jemma gave him a grateful smile before she pressed the button and glided through the sliding door. As Fitz watched her go, he could feel the frustration build inside of him. The first few days after they had gotten Simmons back, she wouldn't let go of him. In fact, she refused to do anything (even hopping in the shower) or talk to anyone unless Fitz was with her or at least was within her general vicinity. She had latched onto him tightly, relying on his presence to calm her down so she could sleep through the night and complete daily tasks.

She was still dependent on him now, that part was obvious, but not in the way that she had been before. Sure, he helped her around when she needed it and sat on her bed as she struggled to fall asleep, but over time she appeared to withdraw into herself, leaving a fragile shell for everyone to communicate with.

She was pulling away from him. Even though she knew that she could tell Fitz anything about how she was feeling or what she wanted to do, she was still choosing to bottle it up inside. And that pained Fitz more than anything.

Those were the days where he felt the most hopeless, watching her internally suffer and knowing that despite his best efforts to help her, they were in vain; there was nothing he could do to make Jemma Simmons come back again.

* * *

"Did you check up Simmons?" Bobbi asked him, pushing herself back and forth on the rowing machine vigorously.

It had been an hour since he had dropped her off at her room and she still hadn't called him about lunch. "Yeah, she' s...distant," he mumbled. "And I'm not exactly sure how I can help her."

"What did you drill into my head when I started rehab on my knee?"

Fitz sighed, knowing very well where this was going. "Patience."

"Exactly."

"Yeah, I know, I know," he snapped. "It's just the lab. She loved that lab, designed it according to her specifications. And now it's..." He shrugged and gazed up at the ceiling, managing to nonverbally communicate his response to Bobbi.

The healing SHIELD agent grunted as she stopped the machine and stood up to approach Fitz. "Could be that it reminds her of the way things were, you know. Like how much time she lost."

That made sense. Fitz recalled how hard it had been when he had first interacted with Simmons after she had returned from her duty as the official Hydra mole- looking at her shortened hair and her new clothes had bothered him constantly. Even something as simple as her "drastic" hair change made him feel like he was out of touch of everything going on aboard the plane, while in the past he was the one that always knew what was going on. Well, besides Simmons, of course.

He put his hands on his hips and pursed his lips together. "Yeah, it makes sense now. I didn't think of that before. I thought her seeing everything she used to love would make her...happy, I guess. I don't know."

Bobbi sympathetically put a hand on his shoulder. "You know what you should do? Forget about the things that used to matter to her and give her something to look forward to. Start fresh."

Fitz paused for a moment as an idea popped into his head, and he dipped his hand into his pants pocket to grab his phone. "Yeah, maybe you're right. Thanks," he said hurriedly, dialing a phone number as he walked briskly out of the weight room.

He made sure he had distanced himself far enough from listening ears before he pressed the call button. "Hello, Antonio? Yes, it's Mr. Fitz." A small smile danced across his lips as he and the caller exchanged pleasantries. "I have one more favor to ask of you..."

* * *

Everything was ringing. Even though her room was quiet, deprived of any potential distractions, she still felt the busy lab atmosphere around her, suffocating her.

The noise was deafening. Jemma squeezed her eyes shut and curled up in a ball on her bed as she clasped her hands around her ears. She suddenly felt the nostalgia of an extraterrestrial storm that she had experienced on the other planet, and the memories had little difficulty invading all of her senses, making her feel like she was catapulted into the swirl of howling wind.

Fitz's call echoed in her mind and she tried to shout, tried to alert him of her location, but the words were unable to tumble out of her mouth. Instead, a high-pitched whimper escaped her lips as she rocked back and forth on her bed.

 _Deep breaths, Jemma. Just like Fitz has told you many times before. Open your eyes and come back to reality._

If only the logical part of her brain knew that it just wasn't that simple anymore.

"Jemma!"

A familiar voice prompted her to open her eyes; the feeling of a rough substance on her shoulder caused her to jolt upright, ready to defend herself against whatever was in the room with her.

Before she could make a move, her action was blocked by a gloved hand and her eyes locked on the creases of worry that had formed on the Director's forehead. "Oh, Coulson," she breathed. "Hi. I wasn't expecting your presence. I deeply apologize for my actions."

Coulson released her hands and shook his head. "No need to apologize. It was my mistake. I thought you were in trouble and I entered without knocking first."

For the first time that day, Jemma's smile was genuine. "I appreciate your concern, Coulson, but I am still sorry that you had to see that."

"Jemma, no one is judging you here," he replied gently. "Dr. Garner gave us the low-down after he first examined you. We know what to expect and we're here for whatever you need."

"Thanks," she whispered, blushing slightly. She was grateful for his understanding, but having your boss witness you having a panic attack was humbling at the very least.

"Fitz told me you called your parents."

Jemma's eyes widened. "I'm so sorry, sir, I should've asked you first, but-"

"No worries, I talked it over with Fitz already. You're not in trouble."

Coulson watched her sigh with relief, observing carefully as every one of her muscles seemed to relax at once, as if this moment was the first time in a while her muscles were able to rid themselves of their tautness. "Your parents deserve to know that you're okay. I would've made the call sooner, but unfortunately-"

"There's a lot going on," Jemma completed for him. "I understand."

He gave her a grateful nod and took his time standing up , adjusting his jacket once he was steady. "From Skye- I mean, Daisy?" he asked, his head turning to look at the flowers on Jemma's bedside table.

"Yeah, she gave them to me as a reminder, even though she said that I could use whatever name I wanted to call her," Jemma replied, smiling fondly at Daisy's gesture.

Coulson chuckled. "She gave them to me too, although apparently I am still having trouble with the adjustment." He couldn't help but glance at his gloved hand. "With a lot of adjustments, actually."

Jemma paused for a few seconds to regain her composure. "So, the Terrigen is spreading, I heard?"

"It is, yes. It's everywhere. Inhumans are popping up like flowers during a rainstorm and we're trying the best we can to protect them from the more brutal tactics of the ATCU."

"And that other guy is still out there? The one killing all the Inhumans."

Pleasantly surprised by her questioning, Coulson continued to give her an update on the team's status. However, he was eventually interrupted by the buzz of his phone, which startled Jemma. "Sorry," he apologized as he took the call.

"Lincoln's in trouble. We need to go get him now," Daisy's voice rang through the phone speaker.

"Thanks for the heads-up, Daisy. I'm on my way."

"Another mission?" Jemma asked as Coulson hung up the phone.

He shrugged. "More like another extraction. The ATCU is hunting down Lincoln. We need to make sure that we get to him before our trigger-happy counterparts do."

He strode briskly towards the door, but paused and turned around before exiting. "I'm glad that you're back, Simmons. The team needs you."

As she watched the door shut behind him, she let out a groan of frustration. Why did everyone keep saying they needed her? Bobbi seemed like she had everything perfectly under control in the lab and she was selfishly preventing Fitz from doing his job and helping Bobbi develop new weapons to better incapacitate and fend off future assailants.

In her opinion, she was the one causing the problems, having everyone check up on her constantly while they should be focusing their complete attention on the other problems at hand.

 _Maybe they should've left me on that other planet after all_ , she lamented bitterly to herself. _I'm just holding them back._

* * *

After what seemed like an eternity, Fitz was able to coax Jemma out of her room, claiming that he still wanted to take her out to a nice dinner, just like he had promised to do all those months ago. She was hesitant at first, but then she had beamed at him and accepted his invitation once she saw the excitement on his face. She hadn't seen him that excited since the day he had asked her out to dinner.

That moment hadn't left her mind since the monolith took her- it was one of the reasons why she never gave up fighting for her life, even when all the odds seemed to be stacked against her. She knew that dinner, the one that could potentially change hers and Fitz's relationship forever, was waiting for her, and she couldn't attend it if she wasn't on Earth to begin with. During those countless moments of running, hiding, and not even giving a thought to when she was next going to be able to eat again, she would've given anything to be at that dinner with Fitz, chatting about science and watching his face glow with the happiness of being in her company.

But as the car Fitz had rented out for them pulled up to a quaint, fancy Italian restaurant just a half hour away from where the Academy was located, and the reality of the situation finally hit her...all she felt was dread.

Why in the world was she so terrified? It was just a dinner with Fitz, she scolded herself. And the fact that he still wanted to take her out after everything she had put him through was incredibly sweet and thoughtful of him to do.

She could only take in a deep breath and silently tell her snowballing thoughts to calm the hell down; ruining this night could have catastrophic consequences for both her and Fitz.

Fitz opened the door for her and held out his hand for her to take. She accepted it graciously, her eyes shining with unshed tears, mistaken by Fitz as excitement, and she rapidly blinked them back once they entered the restaurant.

The silenced, rational part of her marveled at how beautiful everything surrounding them was. The twinkling lights of the chandeliers washed the red and gold walls with a warm glow, making the atmosphere feel warm and cozy, a stark contrast to the frigid harshness of her previous extraterrestrial environment. The candles sitting in the middle of each table added to the beauty, causing the shadows of the silverware to sway nimbly on the white tablecloths as soft classical music played in the background. It was marvelous, the fact that everything that she had dreamed about this dinner was right in front of her very eyes, waiting for her to sit herself down and thoroughly enjoy the night as Fitz had planned it.

However, the over-active part of her, the commandeering and dominant PTSD-afflicted part, immediately noticed how quiet the restaurant was- too quiet. The shadows dancing on the wall were suddenly eerie, as if they were waiting to pounce on her as soon as she got close enough to touch them.

"Thought it would be good for you to get out," Fitz was saying to her, squeezing her hand gently. "Somewhere _nice_. And quiet."

Her heart swelled as he echoed the sentiments of what he had promised so long ago, and a small smile managed to escape the barriers of her conflicted emotions. "Where is everyone?" she asked, secretly scanning the room from her peripheral vision for any immediate threats.

"Well, I wanted to make sure you didn't have any distractions," he murmured, gazing into her brown eyes.

She wanted to smile and thank him for his consideration, but the feeling of dread continued to grow inside of her and she chose to stare wordlessly at the rows of tables instead.

"Ah, Mr. Fitz!" The host greeted them, causing Jemma to experience a split second of panic unnoticeable to the naked eye. "We are delighted to see you tonight. Your table is this way."

Fitz and Simmons took their time walking to their table, coming to a stop at a small, square table in the middle of the restaurant. "The wine is a gift from us," the host explained, gesturing to the bottle sitting beside the small vase of dark red tulips. "A very persistent man he is, Mr. Fitz. We've been holding this reservation for months. We're delighted that you're finally here, Ms. Simmons."

Floored, Simmons stared at Fitz as he pulled his chair out and hung his coat over the back. "You kept the reservation," she said fondly, in awe at his perseverance.

"Don't make a fuss, it's not a big deal," Fitz brushed it off. Sure, it had cost him a good amount to keep the reservation there for that long, not to mention a heck of a lot more to have the whole restaurant empty on a day where it could've been bustling with deep-pocketed customers, but Jemma was worth it. And he didn't want her worrying over how much it had cost him when they were supposed to be having a nice night with no inconveniences.

Like the gentleman he was, Fitz pulled out the other chair and Jemma sat herself down uneasily. "I remember when you first took me after my first time in the hospital. Made me feel like a human being again."

She remembered that time very well. He had managed to knock himself out while playing softball with the other Academy boys and had gotten a concussion. Not being able to work on complicated kinematic equations and tinker with his tools had put him in a very sour mood, despite the fact he was able to make up the work he missed in no time at all in the months that followed.

Jemma raised his eyebrows at him. "You complained the entire time."

"Well..." He thought about it for a moment. "A crappy human being, then."

Retreating slowly into her own thoughts again, she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and looked off into the distance. "I can't thank you enough."

"Yeah, it's a nice restaurant, isn't it?" Fitz commented, taking some time to look around him.

"It is. But for more than that," she continued as Fitz turned his attention back to her. "For finding me."

His blue eyes seemed to sparkle more in the candlelight, if that was even possible, and he grinned bashfully at her as he shrugged his shoulders. "What else was I supposed to do?"

The tenderness in his voice sent a wave of emotion through her; she couldn't quite describe how she was feeling in that moment, but it was nothing short of overwhelming. If only she knew that months afterward, she would reflect back on this juncture as the moment that she realized that she not only loved, but was in love with her best friend.

The onslaught of emotion caused her to shudder. "I don't know what to say," she said breathlessly, averting her gaze down at the table.

"You don't have to say anything," Fitz reassured her. He leaned towards her, struggling to meet her eyes. As happy as he was that Jemma was _here_ , sitting right in front of him with a dinner menu laid out in front of her, his instincts started to pick up that something wasn't right.

"Have you decided on what you wanted?" the host asked, catapulting Jemma back to reality..

"Oh!" she exclaimed, startled by his presence. "Well, there's so much to...choose from..."

Her words drifted into thin air, dissipating quickly as her eyes darted back and forth across the menu. Without warning, the words started to blur together and she found herself struggling to make out even a word on the laminated pages.

"Maybe some of this will help," Fitz commented, pouring her a glass of red wine. Upon seeing the vibrant red splash around in the glass, she held back a gasp, transfixed in a very brief flashback. There was blood everywhere, splattered on the walls of a cave, and she recalled the snap of human bones underneath her feet as if all of this had happened yesterday.

The memory disappeared as quickly as it had materialized, but it left her quivering in her seat. Fitz, noticing that her gaze hadn't left the glass since he had poured it, furrowed his eyebrows in confusion "What's wrong?" he asked, wondering if he should've told the restaurant to provide white wine instead.

His bewilderment shortly turned into concern as soon as he saw the tears pooling in her eyes. Not sure what to do in this situation, the host directed his attention to Fitz for instructions on how to proceed.

"Could you excuse us for a moment, please?" he asked the host politely.

The well-dressed man nodded sympathetically and dismissed himself accordingly.

 _Oh god. Is my discomfort really that apparent that he had to shoo the host away? I'm ruining everything...again._

Her stress levels rose exponentially as her thoughts started to snowball uncontrollably. All she could think about was all the trouble that Fitz had gone through to make this dinner possible. He was being so sweet, taking his time to cater to her every need and her every desire for his presence, even going so far as to hold a reservation for six months in the lingering hope that someday, she would make it back to share it with him. And now she was about to throw it all away because she was behaving like a pubescent, hormonal young girl who lost her bearings over the littlest things.

 _He must've been so distraught by my disappearance. I failed him again, just like I did before. I left him when he needed me most. I should've been by his side, studying that bloody monolith instead of being captured by it. I should've made sure that the containment door was sealed shut in the first place after Fitz left. I should've made him take the oxygen at the bottom of the ocean. He thinks I gave up on him, yet he hasn't given up on me yet. After all that I've put him through, why is he being so nice to me? I can't even go on a bloody date like a normal person, for crying out loud!_

Her tirade of mental self-deprecation combined with the unsettling feeling that the flashback had left in her mind broke the dam that she had been building over the past week, and she started to sob. She felt Fitz's arms wrap around her, giving her permission to finally let those pent-up feelings out. After having spent the last week trying to convince herself that she was getting better, hopping off of square one and making progress, she had back-tracked, reducing herself once again to a bundle of snot and tears.

She was Jemma Simmons, an unadulterated genius with an air of strength and intelligence that no other SHIELD agent dared to question. Dedicated to the well-being of others, prone to diagnosing even the subtlest of symptoms, and attentive to every task that she had ever put effort into, people viewed her as an unstoppable force of vitality and wisdom. Fitz used to depend on her not only for her intellect, but also on her reassuring smile and her words of comfort in his times of need. But so much had happened over the past year and suddenly...she didn't know who she was anymore. She existed without a purpose, a prisoner trapped behind the bars of her own thoughts.

 _I...I don't deserve any of this._

She, Jemma Simmons, was useless.

* * *

Moments later, Jemma found herself sitting on a wooden bench in a dimly-lit park. Fitz had apologized to the host for leaving so soon and had tipped him exorbitantly for his efforts. He knew that there was a small park a short walking distance from the restaurant and he had guided Simmons as she stumbled at his side with only his one arm wrapped around her keeping her from toppling over.

"I'm-I'm so sorry!" she blubbered into her as Fitz continued to hold her, caressing her arm tenderly. "You went through so much trouble to do all of the for me and I ruined everything."

"You don't ruin everything. On the contrary, I think you make things better," he said cheekily, trying to cheer her up. It killed him inside to see her so broken.

"How did I make things better, Fitz?" Jemma countered, lifting her head off of his shoulder.

"Well, look around you. It's not raining outside. The weather is warm and the night is still young. We have a great view of the river, see."

Sighing, Jemma turned her gaze to observe the view in front of her, and she was taken by the moonlight glistening off the water. She still couldn't bring herself to look at the moon above, given that a moon was her main view during those six months she was gone, but she could at least appreciate how the water glistened underneath its luminescence.

"The only sound you can hear is crickets chirping," Fitz continued to soothe her, his arm moving to wrap around her waist. "And you're here with me. That's the part that matter the most."

His words had started to lull her into a sedative trance, and she closed her eyes and smiled at his words. She still couldn't allow him to let her get away with this though. "But what about the-"

"Jemma, it wasn't about the money, or the restaurant, not even about the bloody dinner." he assured her firmly, entwined their fingers together and nuzzled her closer to him. "It was always about you. About us- FitzSimmons."

She emitted a watery laugh of relief that made Fitz light up for a brief moment. He hadn't heard her laugh in a long time. It was encouraging, to say the least.

"Alright," she grumbled stubbornly, making Fitz laugh. Of course she wouldn't like him having the last word in their arguments.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Ms. Simmons?" he inquired, trying to imitate the affable demeanor of the host, scraping for another chance to hear her melodious giggle again.

"Yes, just one thing," she whispered sleepily, closing her eyes.

"And what may that be?" Fitz's words grazed her ear as she maneuvered herself into a comfortable position on Fitz's lap.

"Just hold me."

* * *

 _I was thinking about not adding in that ending part, but I couldn't resist adding it in (I'm a sucker for angsty cuteness lol) because personally I think Fitz deserves the "boyfriend of the year" award. I also replaced the moment with Daisy with a moment between Simmons and Coulson since I had already written a Daisy-Simmons moment in the last chapter. I figured it would be nice to show the "fatherly" soft spot that Coulson has for Jemma._

 _Please review if you can! I'd appreciate any feedback that I can get, especially since I want to write about PTSD accurately. Since I know this is a sensitive subject for some people, please let me know if I've made any mistakes in describing the nature of PTSD and I'll see what I can do to fix them.  
_


	4. Stage 3: Repetition and Exacerbation

_Wow, I am so sorry that I didn't update sooner. College got really crazy after fall break and I have very little time to write nowadays. I know it's been over a month since I last updated, but I'm determined to finish this story nonetheless!_

 _I also had a little rant planned about the appearance of Will in 3x05, but I decided not to write it down here. However, I'd be welcome to share my opinion about it if you PM'd me :)_

* * *

As much as Simmons enjoyed Dr. Garner's company, she wasn't too thrilled to find out that she had suddenly become one of his patients. It had been three weeks since she was rescued from the alien planet and she could slowly feel herself readjusting back to life on Earth. There were times where she still felt like her heart was going to jump out of her chest and the whole room would slowly start to spin around her uncontrollably, but other than those trivial impediments (plus others she refused to admit to herself), she was fine.

Unfortunately, she couldn't get out of these therapy sessions until she could convince Dr. Garner that her trauma no longer had any effect on her physical and emotional wellbeing, so she purposefully chose not to divulge her symptoms to him.

 _I'll get better. I can do this on my own. I'm stronger than they think I am, so why can't they give me a break? This whole "walking on eggshells" around me is really getting tiresome._

"It was bitter, not sweet at all. I had imagined the taste of a strawberry for months, but since getting back, it just wasn't what I remembered."

Andrew smiled at her as she recalled the superficial changes she had observed over the past couple of weeks. "Most things aren't. Memories have a funny way of changing on you when you least expect it." He leaned back in his chair. "I'm glad to hear that you're adjusting back to life on Earth. But I want to hear about how _you_ are feeling. Besides your taste buds, I mean."

Silence washed over Jemma as she tried to come up with a divergence, something that would throw him off the scent. Unluckily for her, Dr. Garner pressed on. "Any trouble sleeping or anxiety?"

"Nope, not anymore," she responded without hesitation.

He picked up the pen from behind his ear and settled his clipboard on his lap. "Any feelings of shock, depression, or rage?"

"Dr. Garner, I know you're looking for signs of PTSD, but I can assure you that I am aware of all the symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder and I'm certainly not experiencing any of them anymore."

"You've been through something very extreme, Jemma. There will be after-effects, ghosts that will stay with you for a long time, and it's okay. It's okay to struggle, to feel uncomfortable in your own skin." Andrew fidgeted slightly as he wrote down notes on his clipboard. Boy, did he know that feeling all too well.

"I am not one of your Inhuman patients, Dr. Garner," Jemma huffed, repositioning herself on her bed. She folded her hands in her lap and intentionally gave Dr. Garner a hard look, full of determination and forged confidence.

"No, no you're not. But survivor stories have always fascinated me, how they got through it," he wondered out loud to Jemma, casually tapping his pen against his leg. "There was one story I heard a couple of years ago about a couple of minors who got trapped underground after an earthquake. They worked together, rationed out supplies with each other, and they made it out alive within a week."

"But at least they still had each other."

"One hiker was stranded on Mt. Hood for six nights with no one else around him, and it was his faith in being found that kept him alive in the end. She just kept thinking about all the loose ends she left behind, the people she cared about...because of that, she never gave up hope."

Andrew looked at Simmons knowingly and observed as her lips pursed into a thin line. "Well...I never completely gave up hope," she argued. However, a realization made the determined but dim light fade from her eyes. "But there was a time where I almost did."

"Can you think back to that time when you almost did?" he questioned.

Jemma shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. "Honestly, I'd rather look forward than back," she said matter-of-factly. "I have a very important project that I'm trying to focus on-"

"You don't have to let me know," Dr. Garner said quickly.

"I don't have anything to hide, Dr. Garner." she insisted. "I'm fine. I'm back in the lab now and I've made some discoveries on my own with this particular project. I would say that's progress, wouldn't you think?"

"Yes, Jemma, that is good news." He smiled, satisfied that she was gaining back her passion for the sciences. "Has Fitz been helping you integrate back into the lab environment?"

Her response was silent, and she refused to answer the question. "Jemma," Andrew prodded. "What's wrong?"

"He has been..keeping his distance," she stated carefully. "Things are sort of tense between us right now."

"Because you're pushing him away?"

"I'm just not ready to tell him yet," she said quietly. "He wants me to open up to him, but I just can't. It's too soon. I'd rather just focus on my work for the time being and focus on my social relationships when I am fully able to engage in them again."

"I understand. Just make sure you're able to distinguish between when the healing ends and the avoiding begins."

Andrew stood up, tucking the clipboard under his arm, and placed a reassuring hand on Jemma's shoulder. "I just wanted you to know that you have a lot of friends pulling for you here. People who care about you a lot. You're safe now, Jemma. It's over."

His words struck a chord in her, causing her muscles to immediately tighten. The wind whistled through her gritted teeth as she managed to mumble "You're wrong" as Andrew exited the room.

 _It's all just getting started._

* * *

"She puts up a good front, but I'm worried about her," Coulson commented as Andrew joined him in his stroll down the hallway.

"You should be. An unprepared young woman was stranded alone on a barren alien planet for six months, who has a lot of emotions and won't open up to anyone about any of them."

Coulson sighed at Simmons's stubbornness. "I know you can't discuss specifics, but is she making any progress?" he asked.

"You can't rush her. She shouldn't be involved in field work for a while. I mean it, Phil," he emphasized, pulling him over to the side. "I know that you haven't been listening to my recommendations about the Inhumans, but please take heed to this one."

Coulson squinted at him, perplexed by his attitude. "Okay," he finally replied. "I understand. Jemma needs to stay far away from all the action and she needs her rest. Let's talk about the Inhumans in my office."

He gestured to Andrew as they turned the corner, and for the time being Jemma Simmons's recovery was the least of their concerns.

* * *

 _It's coming for you._

The wind whispered that warning through the air, whipping around her as she tossed and turned in her sleep.

 _Just because you're back on Earth doesn't mean you're safe. No one, not even your closest companions, can protect you from what's coming._

"What's coming?!" she cried out. A sinking feeling formed in her gut as the fear slowly seeped through her body, taking over every emotion, every action, every pore of her being. She fell on her knees, grasping at the imaginary sand underneath her. "Please," she begged, "just tell me!"

 _Of course not. What would be the fun in that? Death wants to keep you guessing, letting your soul writher in a constant state of turmoil until it hits you when you least expect it. Don't even bother to try to comprehend its ways, its motives. You may have escaped from it once, but Death reaches across all dimensions and all the crevices of the universe._

 _And because you slithered from its clutches...the price will cost you everything._

Her own ear-piercing scream woke her up from her nightmare, and she found herself in the fetal position with one hand clutching a section of her pillow tightly in her hand. Feeling moisture on her forehead, she raised a trembling hand to wipe away the drops of sweat that had gathered there.

She suddenly felt cold, surrounded by an emptiness that had become more and more prevalent over the past couple of days. Fitz had stopped coming to her room to help her sleep after she had insisted on trying to sleep by herself, knowing that she couldn't depend on him to console her every night for much longer. Being the understanding, intuitive friend that she knew he was, he had reluctantly conceded to her requests, insisting only on putting a monitor in her room so that he would be alerted if she ever found herself in trouble.

The first few days without him by her side were horrendous, so to speak. Her nightmares were only getting worse with each passing day, paralyzing her in a silent state of terror during her futile attempts at sleep. This was the first time since she had ordered Fitz to help her wean off of her dependence on him that her nightmare had loudly been vocalized.

Only thirty seconds later did her phone buzz on her bedside table. It did startle her, the noise itself, but she had been anticipating the call anyway. Fitz had told her as much that he'd call her if he sensed that something was wrong.

"Hey, you okay?" his worried yet sluggish voice drifted through the phone as soon as Simmons put it to her ear. "I heard you scream through the monitor."

Jemma smiled, taking a bit of comfort in her own imagination of a sleepy Fitz rubbing his heavy eyes as he took the time to make sure she was alright. "Better now," she sighed as she exhaled a deep, shuddery breath. "I don't think I'll be able to fall back asleep after this one, though."

"Well, it's 5 a.m. right now and Coulson said we could have the morning to ourselves today. Wanna come over for a bit? They just put the new Dr. Who episode online this morning."

Her smile grew wider at his suggestion. "Sounds like a plan. I'll see you in a few."

She drowsily grabbed a blanket and her phone and plodded down the hallway, making a right and then a left turn until Fitz's door fell in her sight. She raised her hand to knock only to find him opening the door in front of her, equally bleary-eyed and sleepy. He flashed a small smile at her, beckoning her to come in.

"I knew this would happen eventually," he commented, taking her hand and leading her through the dim room to his bunk. "Still struggling to get to sleep on your own?"

She sighed, settling herself on his bed while he chose to sit in a rolling chair opposite of his desk. "I guess so," she mumbled, staring at her swinging feet. "The nightmares...they're relentless, Fitz. They won't leave me alone."

"Try to think about what lies ahead, Jemma. Coulson has his hands full with the ATCU and the hunt for Ward. Think about how happy he will be to hear that you are thinking about coming back to the lab again."

Now that she thought about it, maybe she should've told Dr. Garner that Fitz didn't know about her secret project.

Fitz scooted his chair closer to his bed and covered her hand with his. "Things are slowly returning to normal around here. Day by day you're getting better. I know you are."

 _No, I'm not better. Nothing feels normal anymore._

"I know." She forced a small laugh from her throat. "Baby steps, right?"

He chuckled. "I've known you for ten years, Simmons. The steps you take are more like leaps and bounds to me."

Jemma was thankful that the room was dim enough for Fitz not to see her blush at his compliment. "Well, I don't want to steal your bed from you," she joked, quickly changing the subject. "Would you like to join me?"

Soon, they had made themselves comfortable with a bag of malted milk balls, their favorite movie-watching snack, and the new episode of Dr. Who streaming on Fitz's laptop. He was about to press "play" when he heard Simmons gasp beside him. "Wow. Look at that sunrise."

He stared at her, drinking in the beauty of the awed expression on her face. Her eyes glittered with a sparkle he hadn't seen in a long time and the reds and oranges of the sun shining over the horizon from his bedroom window illuminated her pale-skinned face, now rosy with her improved physical health. "Yeah," he responded softly, his eyes still focused on her as he viewed the sunrise in his peripheral vision. "It's really something, isn't it?"

"So beautiful..." she whispered, seemingly to herself. Realizing how caught up in the moment she had become, she snapped out of her daze. "I'm sorry, Fitz, I got distracted. We should start watching the episode now."

To her surprise, Fitz caught her arm as she moved to reach for his laptop. "Not yet." After all of this time watching her wander around the base, going through a carefully-concocted routine filled with repetition and devoid of emotion, he wanted this moment to last for as long as possible. "For now, let's just watch the sun rise."

She grinned widely at him, taking the time to nuzzle her head in the crook of his neck until she was comfortable. Halfway through the course of the sunrise, she dozed off with her head still nestled there, finally finding a brief moment of peace in her frenetic journey through hell.

* * *

The next day, early in the morning, Bobbi walked out of the training room with a towel draped over her shoulder. She found it easier to work out at the crack of dawn instead of later in the day because the adrenaline from working out energized her, preparing her for long days in the lab. Simmons was still not cleared for lab duty, as reported by Dr. Garner earlier on the week, so she was still working with Fitz on analyzing the Inhuman biological samples and taking on any other science-related task that Coulson gave them. However, she was determined to stay in shape and work on her injured knee until she was back in shape for combat as soon as possible. Hunter was still out there looking for Ward, and May had expressed her concerns about him to Bobbi, that he was diving in way over his head with this "mission for revenge."

He was out there alone, vulnerable, with the only backup present in the form of May, if she made it to him in time to help him fight Ward. She needed to be out there with him so he didn't get himself killed.

As much as she trusted May's judgment, Hunter was essentially Bobbi's responsibility, and she would do anything to keep him safe.

She put her worries aside to take a large sip from her water, and she almost made her way past the lab when something peculiar caught her eye. Usually, the lab was completely dark and locked when work ended for the day at 9 pm; the only exception to this rule had been applied in dire situations, such as when Fitz spent every waking hour searching for Simmons after she disappeared. However, that one dim light shining from the corner of the lab wasn't normal.

"Oh, Simmons," she muttered to herself. "Not again."

She cracked the door open and found Simmons exactly where she had been the first two times Bobbi had discovered Jemma's new project: looking at the monolith samples through one of SHIELD's high-tech microscopes. "Hey," she insinuated, rapping on the door gently. "What's going on?"

"Nothing much. Just studying the monolith again," Jemma responded breezily, continuing her work while acknowledging Bobbi's presence with a slight nod.

"Still can't sleep, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess you can say that." The young scientist took off her goggles and turned to face Bobbi, giving her a glimpse of the glaring dark circles underneath her eyes. "Every time I shut my eyes, it's like I'm back on that planet all over again."

Bobbi nodded sympathetically. She had also had some trouble sleeping after Ward had tortured her in his underground basement. However, training in the Operations division at the Academy had prepared her to cope with physical and emotional trauma. Remembering that FitzSimmons hadn't been properly trained for combat before joining Coulson's team reminded her that Jemma never had that same kind of instruction.

Even though she may had surmounted the emotional trauma faster than other people, it didn't dispute the fact that the whole experience had an immense impact on her, and she suspected that Jemma was going through the same thing right now, pretending that things were back to normal when she was really just in denial.

"Fitz has been helping a bit though," Jemma continued. "But I can't depend on him forever. I need to be able to sleep on my own eventually."

"There's no need to rush the recovery process, Jemma," Bobbi said gently. "Coulson said you could take as much time as you need until you are confident again in your ability to work at your full potential."

"But that's the thing, Bobbi, I _am_ ready. I've already gotten loads of data on the composition of the monolith, and I'm this much closer to getting some substantial results. I started out with the hypothesis that-"

"I meant working on things that don't have anything to do with the monolith," Bobbi clarified, her voice taking on a matriarchal tone.

"My rationale is that working on the one thing that I fear the most will help me overcome what I've been dealing with since I got back," Jemma explained, clearly frustrated and already starting to revert to her analytical, biochemist self. "But the properties that we can extract from these particles might help us accomplish goals in future projects."

Bobbi sighed in disbelief. "You know Coulson's not going to want anything to do with those space rocks once we clear you for lab duty, right?"

The look Jemma gave her made Bobbi realize that she wasn't going to surrender to her pleas anytime soon, so she decided to take a detour. "Fitz deserves to know that you're back in the lab and experimenting on the monolith, Simmons," she declared, carefully removing the slide from Jemma's hand and proceeded to dump it in the biohazard trash beside her.

"Hey!" Jemma protested, ripping her gloves off and propelling them into the bin as well. "Look, I'll tell him about it when I think it's best. He's going to assume the worst about my intentions and he's already worried enough about me enough as it is. Just let me take care of this myself!"

Taken aback by Simmons's irritability, Bobbi put her hands up and backed away. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to push you," she apologized. "We're all just concerned, that's all. We miss you in the lab."

Jemma's lips curved into a sad smile. "I know, and I'm sorry I snapped at you. Every day just seems to yield a new challenge, that's all."

She shuffled over to another corner of the lab to take her lab coat off. 'You'll get through this," Bobbi spoke with confidence. Hell, if Simmons could survive six months alone on a foreign planet, she could conquer anything. "I know you can."

Bobbi's words stirred something in Simmons, a state of consciousness she hadn't experienced in a long time- a sense of security. Hearing Bobbi talk to her in that fashion (hearing her actually _say out loud_ that Bobbi fully believed in her mental capabilities) suddenly opened her eyes to all of the support that she had around her.

Why couldn't she have seen this before? She couldn't even keep count of all the times Fitz had reassured and complimented her so far, making every attempt to guide her out of her self-deprecating mess of thoughts. Maybe deep down inside though, she knew that according to their extensive history as lab partners and friends, Fitz would always have her back no matter the circumstances. And even though she had been working with Coulson's team for almost three years now, she still had her doubts about how her fellow team members perceived her as not only a scientist, but as a co-worker as well.

She wasn't able to fully rationalize why it was Bobbi of all people that finally catapulted her out of her mental slump, but it hit her hard. She was Jemma Simmons, part of the famous FitzSimmons duo, co-valedictorian of her graduating class (she and Fitz had tied, of course) and possessor of two in fields that Coulson couldn't pronounce.

Also, she was a survivor of an experience of which no one else lived to tell the tale. Adding that to her mental resume made her seem almost exemplary.

 _I'm officially making progress. I can do this._

And just like that, Jemma Simmons regained her sense of being that had once been abandoned on that horrid, sunless planet.

* * *

 _Where should I start next?_

With a restored sense of confidence in her scientific experimentation, the biochemist stumbled back to her room just as morning was approaching, stifling back a yawn as she shut the door behind her. She had made more progress that night than she had since the day she started and it was all thanks to Fitz and his previous notes on the monolith; had she not been so determined initially to figure out the riddle of the monolith on her own without Fitz's help, his lab desk would've been the first place she looked. It had taken her a while to find them- and she eventually did while searching through his meticulously-organized file cabinet beside his desk- but his entries on the location background and the structural composition of the portal had contributed significantly to her findings of the chemical properties of the dust that used to hold the monolith together.

At some point during the night, the pages of calculations and diagrams started to blur together in her mind and she had to force herself to value her health over her lab work. With an almost-delirious smile and a hop to her step, she had tucked her binder along with Fitz's thick, bound file folder underneath her arm, whistling cheerily as she cleaned up her work space and left the lab tidy and spotless, as if she had never been there at absurd hours of the night in the first place.

She felt her entire body, drained from the constant lack of rest, melt into the bed as soon as she had flopped down on the mattress and her muscles seemed to give a sigh of relief. Sleep overcame her quickly, but it didn't last long. The minute she shut her eyes, her brain started processing the onslaught of information she had gathered that night, and merely a few hours later she sat up, wide-eyed and desperate to examine the rest of Fitz's notes.

Snuggling comfortably underneath the warm blankets, she continued to gloss over his schematics and his multitude of hypotheses about the exact purpose of the monolith. As Jemma usually did with Fitz's work, she marveled over how extensive and comprehensive his work was, cataloging every detail and discrepancy he found in his experiments and his background research. She had almost reached the other side of the thick file folder, writing down her own notes in her lab notebook as she worked, when a slimmer folder and a DVD labeled "Security Footage 3/15/15- 10/1/15" slid onto her lap.

Curious, she picked it up with her slender fingers and squinted at the label. Usually when documenting security footage, SHIELD released the tapes in monthly intervals. Why was this one so specific? What also struck her as a bit unusual was that the footage of the base was usually stored on the Director's computer- this one, on the other hand, was resting in its physical form, its undisclosed contents weighing heavily on the palm of her hand.

 _March 15...what happened on that day?_

Suddenly, the answer hit her like a ton of bricks. Her heart beat wildly in her chest as she took in a sharp breath. How could she have forgotten? It was the day after Fitz had asked her out to dinner.

On that day, she had also been abducted by the monolith and transported to a physical hell. October 1st must've been the day she got back. With little to no means of keeping track of time while she was stuck there, her circadian rhythm had reset itself, making it more difficult for her than usual to keep track of time, dates, and days of the week on Earth.

She chose to look through the smaller folder first, carefully flipping through the pages of Fitz's travel log. She smiled when he saw that his first stops were in England, Scotland, and a couple of other remote places in Western Europe, but her blood ran cold at the last couple of pages as countries such as Iraq, Pakistan, Afghanistan, and finally Morocco caught her eye, places in which he had scheduled meetings with al-Quaeda representatives, the Haqqani Network, and Yusef Hadad.

These weren't confirmed sources documented as allies of SHIELD- these were terrorist organizations. Dangerous, risky places containing malicious extremists that would kill anyone that stood in their way.

How could had Fitz been so stupid to go on these missions alone without backup? She was definitely going to have some choice words with him on that topic later- once she had finished her project, of course.

Jemma's stomach tangled into knots at the thought of Fitz getting tortured while trying to obtain information on the monolith and her mind was suddenly hyperactive, fueled by the worry and dread that flowed through her body. In her haste, she practically shoved the DVD into her computer's DVD player and didn't hesitate to press the "play" button.

Her screen showed her feeds from four cameras, with two positioned in the lab and two residing in the room where the monolith had originally been held. The first six months did not show much unusual activity; most of the video displayed Fitz conducting experiments and collecting data on the monolith. She did, however, notice how often her scientific other half was in the lab, as he seemed to be working there 24/7, only stopping occasionally to eat, sleep, and give updates to various members of the team on his progress. She saw him interact a lot with Daisy and Mack at first, as they appeared to check on him often after she had first disappeared, but those dynamics appeared to change after the first two months. Bobbi's presence in the lab increased dramatically as she was released from surgery, temporarily assigned to take Simmons's place in the lab while Daisy and Mack started to locate and extract newly-transformed Inhumans. A sense of gratitude overtook her as she witnessed Bobbi watching over Fitz, supporting his endeavors and covering for him as his attempts to uncover the secrets of the monolith took on an air of desperation.

By the time Jemma reached the last day, her posture was hunched over and tense as her eyes fixated on Coulson and Fitz's conversation. She had to remind herself to breathe, attempting to take in strained gulps of air as she saw Fitz's face crumple in the wake of Coulson's advice. "We need to say goodbye. Jemma would want that."

Even that closing statement was unable to prepare Jemma for what came next.

It transpired in front of her in a blur, the thirty seconds in which she witnessed Fitz's world crash down around him. The noise of the steel door being kicked open, the gunfire that broke open the latch of the monolith enclosure, and the harrowing screams that erupted from his mouth as he slammed his hands against the monolith, begging it to do _something_ , anything, to renew his hopes of her eventual return...she knew they would haunt her for many days to come. She failed to suppress a high-pitched whimper as the scene unfolded, covering her mouth with a tear-stained hand.

He had never given up on her, not even for a second. But there was one thing he did relinquish that day, something that hadn't happened since their close encounter with death in the med pod: his will to live.

And that broke what was left of her troubled, lovesick heart.

* * *

After a brief bout of hysterical sobbing while watching that horrendous moment on a loop, she busied herself in the lab, trying to distract herself from the onslaught of emotions that inundated her. She had brought her research and laptop with her, and the pile of endless pain and suffering sitting on her lab bench plagued her while she immersed herself in her procrastination.

Jemma sighed, pausing for a moment to pull herself together as she carefully alphabetized the hazardous materials, fiddling with the labels and caps in apprehension. Caught up in her distractions, she didn't even notice the quiet footsteps that barely echoed behind her.

"Jemma...what is all of this?"

Her breath hitched in her throat, and she gasped at the sound of Fitz's voice. "None of your business," she snapped as she silently pleaded him not to look at her work. Then came the sound of pages flipping between nimble fingers, and alarm bells rangin her head as she realized that it was too late.

"Fitz, I can explain-" she started, striding towards him, but he was too engrossed in his shock to pay attention.

"Why are you conducting experiments on the portal remains?" he demanded, a pained expression forming on his face. "I thought you said you were going to put this behind you."

"You don't understand, Fitz, I _need_ to study the monolith," she pleaded, snatching her binder from his hands and placing it back on the table.

"How can I understand that you're working on something that almost killed you?" he yelped. "Why would you even _want_ to look at that bloody thing again?"

Jemma was frozen, gaping as she watched Fitz stop, his eyes widening with disbelief as he stared her down. "You don't...want to go back there, do you?"

"Of course I don't want to go back to that godforsaken planet!" she exploded. "How could you even think that?"

"I don't know, Simmons!" He threw his hands up in frustration. "I don't know what's going through your head right now! Everyone claims that we have some sort of telepathic connection, but I can't even fathom this because you don't tell me anything anymore! I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on!"

Stunned by Fitz's outburst, Jemma's lip started to tremble. She couldn't stand to see him in pain like this again, not after what she had just seen on her laptop hours ago. "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you," she mumbled, ashamed of how she had the nerve to deceive Fitz when he trusted her with absolutely everything. "What do you want to know?"

He frowned, giving her a hard look as he crossed his arms in front of him. "Everything."

"Fitz, I can't-"

"Jemma, please," he begged, the tears pricking at his eyes not going unnoticed. "Just let me in. I gave you your space, and I'm not going to let you push me away anymore. I refuse to let you suffer with this any longer."

Refusing to let her PTSD conquer her this time, Jemma took in a deep breath and anxiously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I...I was working on the monolith because I thought it would help me heal," she explained, keeping her eyes averted to the ground. "It has been proven that directly facing what you fear most gives you a sense of control, allowing you to overcome the anxiety that whatever hurt you won't hurt you again. I thought that studying the properties of the monolith would give me control of my...PTSD." God, she hated that word. "It made me realize that I still love science, but it still doesn't change anything."

She sniffed, furiously blinking back tears, and Fitz placed a tender hand on her arm. "What doesn't it change?" he asked softly.

"That I'm different! I'm not the same person as I was before!" It all came out in a rush out of her mouth before she could even stop the dam from breaking. "I jump at my own shadow, I'm living in a constant state of fear every second of the day, and I can't even conduct a bloody experiment without my emotions mucking everything up!"

She cried out in frustration and instinctively moved to knock something, anything, off of a table, but Fitz caught her before she had the chance to do so. "I'm not healed!" she wailed, writhing in his grasp. "I just want to be normal again, but I can't! I'm..."

Her enraged figure suddenly deflated and she hung her head in defeat. "...broken."

Fitz was speechless. How could so much hurt and anger linger in her tiny, frail body? The only thing he could bring himself to do was hold his arms out as a peace offering, concern and empathy etched across his face.

He didn't expect her to collapse into him so forcefully, pushing all of her weight into his chest as heavy, cacophonous sobs were absorbed into his sweater. Burying his head in her shoulder, he clutched her tightly, fearing that she would fall apart if he didn't do so. "I can't do this alone anymore," she bawled. "I just want this all to end..."

"Jemma..." he breathed. "You're not alone. I'm here for you. I was broken once too, remember?" He could barely feel her nod against their tight embrace. "You're not the same and neither am I. We've both changed, you _will_ get through this, I swear. You and me, we're in this together. You're just different now, and there's nothing wrong with that."

Little did they know that a tiny, cloaked DWARF was hovering just a few feet away from them as they stood there. During her downtime, Daisy had been playing around with her new obsession when she had accidentally stumbled upon Jemma's breakdown. A normal reaction from her would've been to give her friends some space, but she was so distraught by Jemma's breakdown that she had frozen in place, neglecting to detach her eyes from the screen in front of her.

Since the DWARF was close enough to catch snippets of their conversation (and she secretly had hoped the two science nerds would someday get together from the very beginning), Fitz's last words to Jemma caused a smile to spread across her face. _Where had she heard that before?_

* * *

It took Jemma a couple of minutes to collect her bearings, but she finally managed to lift her head up after wiping all the tears away. "Fitz?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm done avoiding this. It's time. It's time for me to tell you everything."

And this time, she meant it.

* * *

 _Holy shit, that was so much longer and more intense than I planned for it to be. I'm shaking, guys, I'm shaking. Or that could be because I had caffeine this morning before finishing this, I don't know._

 _I also joined Tumblr this week and my, it's so addicting and full of FitzSimmons fans! But they're also freaking out about the midseason finale and the addition of Slingshot (potential love interest my ass…), so not enjoying the fandom paranoia very much. But Fanfiction is still the only place you can find my stories, just a note. I have two more chapters planned for this story, plus I have two more works brainstormed for the upcoming months (both FitzSimmons, one M-rated oneshot and one AU story). so be on the lookout for those in the future! Have a happy Thanksgiving everyone!_

 _(Also, just an FYI, another update for this story may not come until end of December because it seems like finals are going to try to kill me this month. Sigh.)_


	5. Stage 4: Transition and Acceptance

_I'm so sorry it took me this long to update. I know it's unfair to have made everyone wait this long for one, but I did warn you ahead of time that this might happen, in my defense. But I'm still here and the story is almost done! And I will not guarantee anything about posting dates this time, but I can promise that the last chapter/epilogue won't take nearly as long to write as this did. For those of you that are still reading this story, I hope you enjoy this chapter because it's pretty intense and full of FitzSimmons feels, and it's the longest one yet :)_

* * *

"It was dark, Fitz..." Jemma shook her head as she kept her eyes focused on the ground. "So incredibly dark. I couldn't see anything after the portal spit me out."

She searched for the memories cowering in the back of her mind, but the only sensation flooding her senses was fear. Eventually, as she struggled to release them past the mental barrier she had worked so hard to build over the past couple of weeks, she was surrounded by the dank cave air and the smell of rotting flesh.

Having forgotten how vividly those images would come roaring back to her, she instinctively tensed, clenching her fists so hard that her nails dug deeply into her skin; it was only the feel of Fitz's hand sliding around her knuckles, attempting to entwine his fingers with hers, that brought her back to reality. "Keep going," Fitz murmured from the chair beside her bed. "I'm here."

Jemma exhaled the breath she didn't even know she was holding. "I know." She counted to ten in her hand and focused on her breathing, which in turn helped to relax her taut muscles. Dr. Garner's exercises had come in handy after all, and she couldn't help but wonder why had she been so adverse to using them in the first place. "I'm just mentally preparing myself, that's all."

After taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and looked directly past Fitz at the wall behind him. "It didn't take me long to figure out that I was in a cave- the walls and the floor were incredibly damp and as I tried to feel my way out of the darkness, my fingers broke off large chunks of sediments. I deduced that I was probably near or directly underneath a stream or a large body of water due to the texture of the sediments and the erosion that caused the rocks to break off in the first place. But it was all just speculation at the time. Honestly, I had no idea where I was...until I heard the snap of a bone underneath my feet and the sound of something waking up behind me."

Fitz's jaw tightened as he watched Jemma's face blanch. "I used the flashlight feature on the phone you gave me to look around. It turned out that I had stepped on a human rib cage and..." She swallowed audibly. "When I turned towards the noise...there was this monstrous beast behind me. From just one glance I could tell that its dimensions were definitely larger than five versions of myself stacked on top of each other in each direction.

 _I couldn't get a better look at it though at the time because before I could comprehend my situation, I had grabbed a rib from underneath my shoe and started running. It chased me for at least a mile until I was able to lose it through a maze of rocks, frustrating it enough to make it return back to its home. I vowed to avoid that cave for as long as I could, but I had to keep in mind that it could also be my only way of getting home, if that was the only place where the portal opened._

 _I tried to stay as close to the cave as I could- close enough so that you, or someone else from the team, could figure out my whereabouts if the portal happened to open again, and far enough not to coax that beast out unintentionally. Figuring that someone would notice my absence eventually, I waited at that spot for a while, deciding that I would only search for food and water when I absolutely needed it._

 _The only way I knew how long I waited at that spot was keeping track of the time on my phone, and I was well aware that a human being could survive up to three weeks without food but only for three days without water. After 60 hours or so, I used whatever energy I had left to search for water. I left a pile of stones behind and my necklace to let you know that I had been there._

 _It took me a bit of time to hike up a hill not far from the cave, but I finally found a large pool of water. Not caring about its contents very much- it could've been toxic, for all I knew- I drank from it, even going so far as to bathe myself in it. I decided to stay permanently near the pond until I could find a place with more resources._

 _A week passed by without me knowing- I mean, I knew a week had past because of my phone, but there was absolutely no sun in the sky to distinguish between night and day. I only saw two moons, one appearing close enough to touch and another farther away, but those and the miniscule amounts of stars in the eerily blue sky were all I ever saw while I was on Maveth. The pang of hunger in my stomach faded over time, but I was losing energy fast, only able to walk a few hundred steps into the distance before almost collapsing from fatigue. The realization slowly sank in: I was going to die if I couldn't find anything to eat soon. I was terrified._

 _I finally got lucky_ (she couldn't help but laugh bitterly at the irony) _when a large squid attacked me while I was bathing. I used the rib I had sharpened to hack off one of its tentacles, which not only saved my life but it gave me enough food to live off of for at least another week. During that time, I explored the planet a little more, documenting the landscape, the sky, whatever I could find, with my phone. I found and killed a couple of small rodents during these trips, but there wasn't any other life I could see on this planet- just rocks and soil. It was barren, like something long ago had destroyed it and prevented it from recovering from the damage._

 _I spent two and a half months alone on that planet. I used survival techniques both SHIELD and my father had taught me to keep myself alive. One day, I cut my hand on a rock after using it to catch myself after I fell. That was the day that I figured out the monster could smell blood from miles away and that it used the scent to track down its prey._

 _I had to abandon camp quickly after that, and I ran to a place that I would later call the "no-fly zone." The monster came close to catching me a few times, but a strong sandstorm approached us suddenly and it confused both of us. While stumbling blindly in the sand, I tripped on a hutch with a makeshift door; had the metal casing not been coated with a thick layer of crusty sand, I could have easily mistaken it for another rock. A gut feeling told me to jump through it in order to escape both the storm and the beast, so I did, but the fall knocked me out and I woke up in a wooden cage._

 _I was kept there for a few days with no idea who had captured me and why I wasn't killed on the spot. At first I thought it was another lair for some other despicable creature, but the frame and make of the cage was too sophisticated and intricate for a beast to make on its own. It didn't take long for me to realize that it belonged to another human, and I couldn't help but fear he was a cannibal and that the reason I was in his cage was because I would be his lunch someday. It was a silly thing to think about, right?_

 _When I was released, I kicked him in the stomach and ran to the ladder that led to the hutch, but he grabbed my leg and he persuaded me to stay by telling me personal things about himself: his name was Jason O'Donnell, he was born and raised in Middletown, Ohio, and he was sent to this planet by NASA in 2001 when he was 25 years old. He never told me his age, but he had to be in his early 40s, given the time stamp. He left a wife and an unborn child behind to pursue this mission and an extraction team never came to get him once the mission was complete. His teammates slowly went crazy as time passed: one threw himself off a cliff, another set himself on fire, and the remaining astronaut destroyed most of their supplies before trying to kill Jason himself. Jason never really recovered from the guilt of killing his comrade after that. I was skeptical at first, but I gave in once I saw that I didn't really have any other options._

 _After a while, Jason and I formed a bond. I was his voice of hope while he was the voice of doom, since he had given up the thought of ever getting off the planet long before I came along. He was like the brother I never had; he taught me how to survive on the planet, even going so far as to throw me out there for days at a time. The treatment was harsh, but he defended his tactics vehemently, saying it was "tough love" and that no amount of coddling would prepare me for the "moods" of the plant, as he called them. I told him stories about us and our missions and in return he told me about his studies, how he had first planned to become an architect but became so swayed by the beauty of the stars and the planets by his college sweetheart that he changed his career path to astronomy and eventually became an astronaut. The way he recounted his time with her, Fitz...it was so sweet. So romantic. After all of this time, after 14 years, he never stopped loving her. And he was forced to leave all of that behind, along with a child who would never know his biological father..._

Jemma's shoulders trembled as she recalled the time spent with her friend. Fitz squeezed her hand gently. "What happened to him, Jemma?" He knew she would've brought this guy back in a heartbeat if she had the chance. Whatever the reason was that Jason didn't come back with her couldn't have been good.

"He and I worked together with some of the old technology NASA had sent along with his team and we devised a hypothesis that the portal opened according to the moon's orbit and the rotation of its polar axis. Using one of his more recent maps of the planet and a computer algorithm, we mapped out places and times where we could go back through the portal together, but many of the places were too far away for us to get to in time or the trek was just too dangerous to pursue. I never gave up, but we hit major setbacks once my phone died and his technology stopped working. We were waiting for a sunrise-"

"Wait, I thought you said there wasn't a sun?"

"I did, but then we figured out that the sun rose once every 18 years! It was on that day that we saw your flare."

Jemma crossed her legs in front of her and folded her hands in her lap. "I knew it was from you the moment I saw it flying across the sky. Jason was reluctant to leave at first but I dragged him along with me. But then we encountered...it. He-" She could feel the tears pooling in her eyes as she spoke. "He fought against the monster so that I could make it back to you safely. Another sandstorm hit as he was fighting the monster, and I soon lost sight of him. But the glimpses I did get of him..." She gulped. "They were blurry, but I saw him wriggling in the monster's clutches. I tried to call out to him, to distract the monster so Jason could escape...but I was too late."

Her face crumpled. "He got torn apart in front of me, Fitz. No amount of sand could've prevented the carnage I saw at the end. And then you were calling for me and I had no choice but to leave him behind. I never even got to say goodbye, to thank him for saving my life. He's...he's dead because of me and I will never, ever be able to forgive myself for that."

Her attempts to wipe away the tears streaming down her face were in vain as they continued to fall one after the other. "Jemma..." Fitz struggled to find the right words to comfort her. "It's not your fault."

"Yes it is! I should've never have asked him to come along with me! I never should've found his bunker in the first place!" she wailed.

"It was his choice to come with you and he didn't say no. For all you knew, the planet could have driven him crazy over time or the monster could've caught him whether you were there or not." Fitz stood up from his chair and sat down next to Jemma on the bed, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It. Wasn't. Your. Fault."

"I could've saved him, Fitz. I could've reunited him with his family. But now he's just another pile of bones decorating that horrid creature's cave."

Realizing that he would never be able to comprehend the pain and guilt Jemma was feeling, his eyes softened with sympathy as he tucked a tendril of brown hair behind her ear. "We can't go back in time and change what happened. But you gave him something that he hadn't experienced in fourteen years- companionship. He didn't perish alone on the planet- he got to spend the last few months of his life with a beautiful, optimistic SHIELD scientist with two PhDs and a million questions. You gave him hope, and in that you gave him new life as well."

He barely got out the words "you did save him" before her head crashed into his shoulder and she started to sob. Wincing a bit at the impact, he put his arms around her as best he could in the position he was in and held her close. "I-just-miss-him-so-much," she gasped between fits, and he pressed a lingering kiss to her temple.

"I know you do. But just now you let it all out. And now that it's out in the open, you can move on."

Her sobs subsided as she listened to him talk. "You're going to get through this, Jem. You're going to be okay."

It was barely discernible, given that she had buried her face firmly into his shoulder, but he was sure that he heard her shaky response ringing in his ears.

"I know."

 _I'm going to be okay._

* * *

 **~November 15, 2015~**

 _I must admit that I never saw the point of keeping a diary. I've always had an excellent memory, so why would I need to write my thoughts down when I can just keep them inside my head? But having a good memory can be somewhat of a curse as well as a blessing, especially when you've been through some of the things I've experienced this year._

 _It's been a month since I came back to Earth and a week since I told Fitz about my time on Maveth. We've started addressing the planet by that name ever since he showed me the scroll with the Hebrew word on it. I still can't believe he went all the way to Morocco for it! He could've gotten himself killed! And I still haven't found the courage to talk to him yet about his recklessness. There are a lot of things we haven't talked about yet, actually. I'll get to that later._

 _Things are slowly getting back to normal, I guess. I still have meetings with Dr. Garner once or twice a week so he can observe my progress and things have gotten easier now that I've told everyone what I experienced on Maveth. Daisy comes by every so often when she's not training the other Inhumans to replace the flowers on my bedside table or watch a movie with me (today's movie was "The Princess Bride"- how have I not seen this before? It's hysterical!), Bobbi adds to my growing science magazine collection every now and then, and Coulson has even given me permission to analyze some of the Inhuman blood samples. I'm not working full-time in the lab yet, but I'm starting to feel like I'm part of the team again, especially since no one gives me pitiful looks whenever I walk into a room anymore. I still have symptoms of PTSD (and I still hate admitting that I have it in the first place), but they're fading in both intensity and frequency._

 _The best news that I have to share is that I finally feel like myself again. Fitz and I have been working in the lab together trying to unearth new information about the monolith and the planet. It first started out as our own little project, an ongoing process of "conquering my fears," but now Coulson wants us to dig into the planet's history for some reason. I think it has something to do with Hydra or Rosalind (or even both, who knows), but the director is keeping the details to himself, divulging information to us on a need-to-know basis. Anyway, it's starting to feel like old times again with Fitz and I working together again, which is nice. And that is why I still haven't told him how I feel about him. What if it changes things somehow? What if we break up and then we can't be friends anymore? I can't risk losing him again, after everything we've been through together. I know how he feels about me and I feel the same way, but still...it's risky. As long as we're SHIELD agents, maintaining a romantic relationship will always be a risk._

 _My god. Why does everything have to be so bloody complicated?_

 _I'm tired of keeping my feelings bottled up inside, but I honestly don't know what else I can do about it besides write in this diary. Fitz is trying to fix my SIM card at the moment and he'll eventually come across the videos I recorded on Maveth. I hope what I've said in those videos doesn't freak him out..._

 _The right time will come along soon. He's accompanying me to my parents' house next week before he visits his mum in the nursing home. I told him he didn't have to, but he wouldn't hear a word of it. Maybe an opportunity to talk will arise then? Who knows. Hopefully it'll happen soon, since now I've developed an overwhelming urge to kiss him whenever he does something really sweet for me. But for now I'm just going to keep my mouth shut until it feels right._

* * *

 **~December 1, 2015~**

"Simmons?"

It took a tap on the shoulder for Jemma to snap out of her reverie and notice that May was addressing her. "Oh, hi May!" she exclaimed. Since she was observing the properties of an Inhuman cell that had the ability to transfer a powerful shock to foreign, threatening objects, she made sure to carefully set it aside before she removed her goggles. "What brings you down here so early in the morning?"

"I don't mean to interrupt-"

"Oh no, you're fine!" Jemma said a bit too enthusiastically for May's liking.

"I need you to take a look at another blood sample. This one's important."

May handed her a small plastic box and Jemma opened it to reveal a thin, unlabeled tube halfway filled with a bright red liquid. It had taken a while for Jemma to desensitize herself from the color red, but she hadn't experienced any flashbacks to that heart-stopping moment in the cave since Coulson had allowed her to be co-head of the science department again with Fitz. "Sure, I can conduct some tests on it and I can get the results to you in an hour."

Simmons skimmed it over briefly before placing it in a container separate from the Inhuman samples. "What do you want me to look for, specifically? Is it blood from an Inhuman?"

May's expression was steely as her eyes remained fixated on the tube of blood. "Potentially."

"So I'll scan for genetic markers that could identify the individual as Inhuman...will do." Jemma's voice lowered as she scribbled down some notes on a clipboard. "Is there anything else I should know? Did you witness any sort of powers being used, did the person have any sort of physical features that may not be considered human-"

Jemma's rambling was cut off by May's hand in the air. "We may have found Lash and I think I know who it might be."

"Really? Who?"

With a frustrated sigh, May shoved the rest of her files into Simmons's hands. "Just give me the test results and the files back when you're done."

As May walked briskly out of the room, Jemma opened the file and she let out a gasp as she saw the suspect's name at the top of the packet: Andrew Garner.

 _No, it can't be. There's no way. Oh god, poor May…_

Jemma couldn't comprehend how in the world May was handling this so professionally, given her history with Andrew. She remembered watching the two of them interact many months ago and how she had speculated with Fitz about whether May and Andrew still had feelings for one another. If she was this shocked by this revelation, surely May's reaction must have been much more intense, even though she wasn't one to openly express her feelings to others.

Something that had come up in a team meeting a couple of days ago also reverberated in her mind. Ever since Lincoln had agreed to stay on the base, Daisy had been able to convince him of SHIELD's good intentions with the Inhumans and from time to time, he would divulge knowledge about the Inhumans to Daisy to prevent them from getting hurt, especially when Lash was involved. From what she had gathered from Lincoln, Daisy had informed the team that once an Inhuman started undergoing a transition, it could not be reversed. Once Andrew transformed into Lash, if May's suspicion was well-founded...the Andrew they all knew would disappear and May would lose him for good.

Although May's reaction to Andrew turning into a monster had little to no similarity with what she was going through with Fitz right now (they unfortunately had been too busy to have that "talk" Jemma had been anticipating for the past couple of weeks), she couldn't help but think about what she would do in May's position, if she was about to lose Fitz to some alien phenomenon she couldn't control. What would she say? Surely it was simpler than she was making it out to be.

 _If she had the chance, what would May do?_

Without a moment of hesitation, she quickly read through the whole packet, making sure to commit the important pieces of evidence to memory before plopping the folders next to the blood sample and rushing out of the lab.

* * *

"May!" Jemma called out as she wandered the base. Unsurprisingly, she found her in the exercise room working on her daily morning Tai Chi routine. "There you are. Can I maybe...ask you something?"

Through the mirror, May gave her a stern look before transitioning into another pose. "No, I haven't run the blood test yet. I'll do it soon, I promise. But I need to talk to you about Andrew."

As May waved her arms out in front of her, her eyebrow arched in suspicion. "Okay, it's not just about Andrew," Simmons admitted. "But I have to ask...do you still love him?"

May's expression softened slightly, but she seemed to ignore the question as she pulled her arms back to her chest. "Okay, forget I asked, I'm just going to run the tests now," Simmons said, almost stumbling over her own words.

"Yes."

She almost didn't hear May respond as she was spinning towards the door, but she did and she gulped at the answer like a breath of fresh air. "I thought so." She smiled, but her next question caused it to disappear as quickly as it had appeared. "And even if he turns out to be this 'Lash' character...would you give him a second chance? In order to salvage what you had before, I mean."

The Cavalry kept her eyes averted to the ground as she slid into a deep lunge. "Maybe. But he's different now and I just have to accept that," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jemma was stunned. May never opened up about her personal life- not like this, anyway. As she intended to do in the first place, she kept pressing on. "But sometimes, change can be a good thing...right?" she asked, trying to sound optimistic.

The mat May was standing on squeaked as she paused to glance back at Simmons, and something in her expression set the biochemist off. "Okay, I'm talking about Fitz!" Simmons almost shouted. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

The corner of May's mouth perked up as she resumed her routine. With an exasperated huff, Simmons sat down on a nearby weight bench.

"If I may interject, love," a distinctive voice drawled behind her.

Jemma's head shot up to see Hunter standing at the doorway. "How long have you been standing there?" she demanded.

"Not long." He shrugged nonchalantly and strolled over to where Simmons was sitting. "But long enough to read between the lines."

Jemma resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Honestly, I thought you were incapable of doing that."

"Why in the world would you think that?" he said defensively.

"Because you're a guy and men don't use subtext like women do!"

She almost apologized for snapping at him, but instead she groaned and put her head in her hands. "I don't know what to do, Hunter. Fitz has been so understanding and sweet ever since I told him about what happened to Jason and I don't know how to tell him."

"Tell him that you love him, eh?"

Jemma gave him a hard look.

"That's-that's what it was, right?" Hunter threw up his hands in surrender. "Just wanted to make sure."

May silently witnessed their exchange in the mirror while she worked through her movements.

"I'm going to give you some advice that you probably don't want but you'll find helpful anyway," he continued, casually leaning against one of the machines by the weight bench. "Don't wait. Because once you lose something, you either lose it for good or it takes a hell of a lot of effort to get back."

 _Huh, I guess I never thought of it that way before._

But she did, actually, once or twice. If something bad ever happened to Fitz, how would she live with the guilt of never having told him how important he was to her? She had told him in the past, surely, but this was different. Those other times were special but in their own way - in a "You are my best friend in the world and I really appreciate your support" way, not in a "You might just be the love of my life and I never want to leave your side ever again" way. This was huge. As a person who didn't vocalize her feelings easily… this was absolutely terrifying, especially because this was _Fitz_ she was talking about, not just a random guy she talked to for a few months and developed a silly little crush on.

Despite her doubts, Hunter's words did make a lot of sense. "Is that how you felt while Bobbi was in the hospital?"

Hunter sighed. "Well, I kind of saw her life flash before my eyes, if you know what I mean. But yes. Bob and I may fight and have our differences, but..." He shrugged his shoulders. "She's my Bob. And a girl like that makes an impression."

Jemma's mind clouded with frustration as her thoughts reverted back to Fitz. "But-"

"But nothing. Tell the poor sap you love him before you lose him. I was the one that had to listen to him tinker away across the hall all the time while you were gone. Literally had to supply him with my own goddamn whiskey to get him to finally sleep. And when that didn't work, all he ever did was talk about how much he missed you. He almost killed himself breaking into that bloody monolith enclosure, for god's sake. Just relieve him of his misery already."

She felt an ache in her chest just thinking about Fitz drowning his sorrows in whiskey, reluctantly using some of Hunter's tactics to take away his pain. Nonetheless, it didn't take long for Hunter's advice to become insufferable. "Thanks, Hunter."

Her lips pursed into a thin line, and he clapped her sympathetically on her back as she stood up. "Don't give up, kid. You and Fitz will be alright in the end."

Hunter paused for a moment. "That, and also Mack owes me and Daisy a hundred bucks each if you two get together."

 _For Pete's sake, they bet on us?_ "Go away, Hunter," Jemma said sternly.

"You know, a 'thanks for the advice' would've sufficed," Hunter shot back. "Your wish is my command."

"He's right, though." May's voice echoed in the room, causing Jemma to turn around in surprise. "Don't wait."

"You're _agreeing_ with him?" she asked incredulously.

"I'm surprised, too." May slung a towel over her shoulder as she grabbed her water bottle from the floor. "I waited too long with Andrew. Don't make the same mistake I did."

* * *

 _Do you remember when we first met?_

It had been two weeks since Fitz had taken a look at Simmons's pictures and recordings from her old phone, but his head was still spinning from her final video. He suspected that she would take account of her time on the planet, but he had no idea that she would be talking to him through it all, much less thinking about an actual future with him the whole time. Now the images of a weak, malnourished Jemma and her corresponding words played over and over again in his mind, as if he was constantly rewinding and re-watching a movie.

 _You were so quiet and pasty, so incredibly smart and handsome. Quite a strange feeling, isn't it, never wanting to be without someone?_

Fitz's hand clenched around the knife in his grasp as he cut a baguette in half. Even when he was trying to work or complete the simplest of tasks, her sentiments always seemed to catch him off-guard nowadays. Despite how incredibly overjoyed her monologue had made him feel initially, all of the other feelings he had been hiding during Jemma's recovery were starting to seep out, too - the pain of almost losing her, the regret of not finding her sooner, the realization that the damn universe kept pulling them apart for some twisted reason he couldn't comprehend. The burden of all the possibilities, all of the "what-ifs" and "what-could-bes" had the bloody cosmos not interfered with everything in the first place - not to mention the wondering about whether Jemma's words were true or just contrived out of dehydration and exhaustion - was proving too much for him to bear.

But he had to be strong, not just for Jemma, but for the rest of the team as well. No one needed to know that he was internally suffering too.

 _You must've been so annoyed with me following you around all the time._

How could she even think that? Jemma had been the first person to even treat him like a normal human being when they had became friends at the Academy. Being the youngest student and a child prodigy had been tough - half of the people he knew wanted to be his friend for the wrong reasons while the others, clearly intimidated by his intellect and academic excellence, kept their distance from him. Because of the loneliness, he was borderline depressed until she came along. And unbeknownst to her, she was without a doubt the best thing that had happened to him.

On the contrary, he'd follow her anywhere, even if it meant diving through a hole in the universe to be with her.

 _I wonder about us a lot, actually. There's a small cottage in Perthshire we drove by once when I was little...during some family holiday or something, and I don't know why but I...I just thought it was so lovely. I still think about it, actually. A place where you and I could've..._

He knew where she was going with that and he could scarcely believe it himself. And goddamnit, he'd drop everything to settle down in Perthshire with her, that's for sure. It'd be hard leaving the team and SHIELD, but for her it would be worth it.

They would be safe. There would be nothing standing in the way of them being together, no dangerous missions or psychotic villains looking to tear them apart ever again.

And for the first time in a long, long while...they'd be happy. Truly, utterly, blissfully happy.

But it was Jemma's appearance in that video that often evaporated all of those daydreams out of his mind; he had never seen her in such bad shape before, practically hanging on death's door as she desperately searched for ways to survive the night. It haunted his sleep, creating a dark pit of self-loathing in his chest that wouldn't go away. He should've gotten to her faster. He should've saved her from all that suffering in the first place. Despite all of the things he did right when rescuing Jemma, there were also so, so many things he did wrong: all of the failed attempts at opening the monolith, all of the dead ends with his sources, and breaking into the monolith. Those were just a few of the failures he'd encountered since joining Coulson's team.

Fitz took in a deep breath and attempted to clear his mind as he set the bread aside and worked on cutting the mozzarella. After all, he couldn't let those thoughts keep him from eating.

 _I'll always be with you, Fitz._

Suddenly, the knife slipped in his hand and clattered onto the table as he cried out in pain. "Shit!"

Cursing internally under his breath, he examined the cut on his finger. It was deep and blood was pouring out of it at an alarming rate. "Fitz! Are you okay?" Daisy exclaimed as she appeared around the corner.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Fitz muttered, grabbing a towel from nearby and pressing it against his wound. "Jus' cut myself, that's all."

"You sure don't look fine." She took her phone out of her pocket. "I'm calling Simmons."

"No, Daisy, you don't need to do that-"

Both of them stopped what they were doing at the sound of footsteps. "Huh. I guess I don't have to," she said triumphantly. "My psychically-linked theory lives on."

Fitz rolled his eyes, freezing in place as Jemma approached them. "What's wrong? I heard Fitz yell," she asked Daisy before her eyesight aligned with Fitz and his bleeding hand. "Oh, Fitz!"

It wasn't a yell of exasperation this time, but he couldn't help but feel ashamed anyway. "I-I guess my hand-eye coordination still isn't the best and the knife slipped-"

"You're coming with me."

Before he could even finish explaining the situation to her, she was dragging him by the wrist to the med bay.

* * *

"Jemma, calm down, it's just a cut. You don't need to go all doctor on me."

"It needs _stitches_ , Fitz." She approached him with a bundle of materials in her hands as Fitz sat on the gurney. "Now, hold still. I need to wash your cut and disinfect it before numbing your finger."

She maneuvered his hand over the sink and he hissed as the disinfectant seeped through the broken, inflamed skin. "I'm sure I could've done this myself, Jemma."

"For god's sake, let me take care of you for once!" she suddenly exploded, placing the disinfectant back in its rightful place with more force than necessary. "You've been taking care of me this whole damn time, now let me do something for you."

"Okay." Fitz sank down into the gurney, still holding his hand over the sink. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed."

"No, I'm the one that should be sorry."

Fitz was taken aback. "For what? I was the one who bloody cut myself. What could you possibly have to be sorry for?"

"For a lot of things, actually." She stopped fiddling with the syringe that the anesthesia would eventually go into and turned to face him. "For dragging you into the field. I know you didn't want to leave the comfort of the Sci-Ops lab, but I made you leave anyway."

"Jemma, I-"

She raised a hand to stop him. "Let me finish!" Since she had promised herself to follow Dr. Garner's advice this time, she might as well just put it all out in the open. "I shouldn't have jumped out of the plane when I contacted the Chitauri virus. I should've trusted that you would find a cure in time to save me. And I'm sorry about the way I treated Skye after she became Inhuman. I just didn't want to lose her or anyone else after Trip died trying to save her in the temple."

"Jemma..." Fitz repeated, reaching for her with his good hand. "Where is all of this coming from?"

"I left you, Fitz!" She continued as if she hadn't heard him. "I left you when you needed me most and I'm never going to forgive myself for it."

He tilted his head. "So this is about when you went undercover for Hydra," he said slowly. "You want to talk about this now?"

"Yes, because I never got to tell you why I left!" she blurted out. She filled the syringe and carefully stuck the needle into his skin, making sure her tumultuous feelings did not affect her need to take care of her patient. Her voice took on a less frantic tone. "You...you were getting worse with me being around. You were talking to people just fine when you were on your own, but when I would come into the room...it was like you hadn't made any progress. You constantly depended on me to finish your sentences, and I kept doing it. Mack even told me when I got back that I was just making you worse."

Fitz stared at her, dumbfounded, not even thinking to acknowledge the lack of feeling in his hurt finger. "It was clear my presence was stalling your progress instead of making you better, so I left. And I told you that I was visiting my parents so I wouldn't worry you, which probably would've hindered your progress more."

"But..." He suddenly looked misty-eyed. "You always make me feel better."

Jemma squeezed her lips together and she struggled to keep herself from crying. "This time, I didn't," she managed to choke out. "It made me feel like I failed you. And then I felt even worse when you went off on me in the lab and again in the Garage."

She put the syringe down and hastily swiped the tears from her eyes. "Why didn't you tell me all of this before?" Fitz asked gently. "Why did you keep this bottled up for so long?"

Jemma sighed. "I don't know. When we started being friendly again, I didn't want to ruin it by bringing up the past. By the time I wanted to tell you everything again, it was too late. But Dr. Garner told me that I shouldn't keep secrets bottled up inside so, um..." She waved it all away with her hand. "This is for my-" A grimace arose on her face. "Healing, I guess."

"Well..." He gave her hand a squeeze. "I'm glad you're getting this out of your system then. Even though you had to lock me in a white, sterile prison to do it."

Jemma made a _psssh_ sound as he flashed her a wry smile. "Oh, shush." She turned back to the counter and threaded a needle with the suture she would use to sew the stitches. "And you know what? There's something I just thought of that would help speed the healing process just a little bit more."

"What's that?" Fitz asked, playing along for her sake.

She fixed a steely-eyed glare upon him. "You telling me what in the world you thought you were doing while I was away."

That certainly wasn't the kind of response he was expecting from her. "What are you talking about?"

"The trips to Europe, the secret meetings with _terrorists_ ," she spat. "Breaking into the monolith enclosure. What the hell were you thinking? Did you have a death wish or something?"

"Yes." His answer was soft, filled with an anguish she couldn't describe with words.

Jemma fought to keep her composure as her worst fears were confirmed. She figured that had been his intention all along when she watched the security footage, even though she couldn't bring herself to believe it, but hearing him say her own assumptions out loud brought a terrible ache to her heart that she hadn't prepared herself for.

"I tried everything, Jemma," he started to explain, and she took the opportunity to slide the needle into his numbed skin while he was distracted. "None of the experiments I conducted on the monolith worked and none of SHIELD's confidential sources turned up anything. Not even Lady Sif knew anything and she knows a lot about Kree history too. Coulson and the others had long since given up when I started exploring my more extreme options, and Bobbi was the only one who would cover for me. I just followed the trajectory of the objects I needed to try and find you." He shrugged slightly, trying not to disturb Jemma's work. "What else could I do?"

"I understand," she replied quietly. Her nimble fingers worked with the needle quickly as she listened. Being required to fill in as the head surgeon most of the time while working on Coulson's team had made her very skilled in the art of stitching up wounds, and working on a cut as small as the one on Fitz's finger (compared to the others she had to treat through the years) was as effortless to her as breathing.

"I..." He took in a deep breath. "I wasn't strong enough to live in a world that didn't have you in it. And wherever you were, wherever that damn monolith had sucked you up and taken you away from me...I wanted to be there too."

Fitz watched as she tied the knot on the suture and bandaged his cut. "Coulson could even tell I was pretty much useless without you here because I was so distracted and whether they wanted to admit it or not, the rest of the team saw it too." His expression was unreadable as he finally managed to meet her eyes. "You mean the world to me, Jemma. You always have."

She didn't even bother to put away her surgical equipment as she was suddenly captivated by the deep pools of blue that swam in his eyes. _You have to do it now, Jemma_ , she thought. _Just spit it out already._ "You know you're more than that too, right?"

His mouth gaped open. "Really?"

She stared at him in disbelief. "Is that really so hard for you to believe?"

"I don't know. I just thought you would never feel that way about me."

"How could I not?" Jemma exclaimed. "You dove through a hole in the universe for me! You're my best friend in the world, I spent six months thinking about going on a date with you, I even told you that I wanted to settle down with you, for god's sake! How could you still have doubts after all of that?"

"Well, you were probably tired and dehydrated when you said those things in the video-"

"I was as clear-headed as I've ever been when I said those things," she retorted.

"Then the cosmos obviously have something against us being together."

"The cosmos don't want anything, Fitz! They don't have a brain or any neurological systems to plot conspiracies against us!"

"Oh yeah? Explain why we always get torn apart whenever we grow closer!"

"I don't know, bad timing? You know I can't answer that, but it's definitely not the _cosmos_."

"Well, there's still something keeping us apart!"

 _It's us._

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. "It's us," she whispered. "We're the only ones keeping us apart now."

Fitz's eyes lit up. "Wow. I...I guess that's true, in a way."

His breath caught in his throat as he realized how close their faces had gotten to each other during their heated argument. "But there's still the nature of the job and-"

"Being in danger all the time, and I'm scared because I-"

"Don't want to lose you-"

They were both cut off as their lips met in the middle. The union was soft and shallow, full of the uncertainty that came along with exploring uncharted territory. Eventually, Fitz pulled away, his lips parted and trembling as he rested his forehead against hers, and the hesitation prompted Jemma to wrap her hand around the back of his neck and kiss him more passionately. Her desire caused his anxiety to fade away as he entwined his fingers in her hair and deepened the kiss.

They took their time relishing the moment, their mouths melding together in perfect synchrony before breaking apart. "We have a lot to talk about," Fitz breathed, smiling shyly as he ran his fingers through Jemma's hair.

Reveling in the tingle of her lips and the rush of jubilation that ran through her, she beamed back at him. "We certainly do."

* * *

"Are they working things out in there?" Mack asked Daisy, who had followed Fitz and Simmons to the med bay and was observing their interactions through the med bay window from afar.

Daisy bit her lip and flashed him a triumphant grin. "See for yourself."

Mack followed her gaze and whistled at the two love-struck scientists making out in front of them. "Way to go, Turbo."

Daisy's expectant smirk bore into the side of his head and he groaned. "Crap."

"Hand it over, teddy bear."

"I hate it when you call me that," he muttered, slapping the hundred bucks into her palm.

* * *

 _I got the idea about Fitz cutting his finger from my own experience: I cut my finger about...14 months ago in college while opening a soup can. Weird thing to cut my finger on, right? I thought it would come in handy for the lead-up to their confessions :). Don't give up on me yet, the end is near!_


	6. Stage 5: Recovery and Enlightenment

_I know. I know. It's been almost 5 months since I last updated this and it has bugged me ever since. Unfortunately, real life and my own high expectations for this story got in the way of my writing and I realized that I needed to take a break from this story until I overcame those issues. But fear not, because this is the last chapter and I kept my promise! I hope you enjoy it :)_

 _Also, kudos to the readers who can figure out what I did in the first part of the chapter (hint: tumblr users who know me as nerdlove4thewin and follow my blog may have an easier time guessing this). And please comment if you do so that others who can't see it will be aware of it too!_

* * *

 **~December 10, 2015~**

"Agent Simmons?" Coulson's voice rang through the lab.

"Over here, sir!" Jemma called out from behind the scanning electron microscope. Ironically, after she and Fitz had ceased doing research on the monolith rocks, Coulson had asked them to further analyze their results, citing that Gideon Malick had mini monoliths in his possession and planned to use them to return to Maveth. She scanned her sample one last time, taking note of the colored lines indicating the presence of certain elements in the rock particles, and took her goggles off as he approached her. "Is everything alright?"

"We're making progress with the hunt for Malick. Daisy and Mack are in pursuit with Joey and Lincoln tagging along as backup."

Jemma's eyes lit up. "Oh, the Secret Warriors!"

Coulson tilted his head. "Come again?"

A red tint flooded her cheeks and she smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, that's how Dr. Garner referred to Daisy's team when he was vetting the new Inhumans."

"It sure is catchy," he agreed. "But I didn't come here to discuss the mission."

Jemma's expression fell. "Oh, okay. Did someone get hurt?"

"No, no need to worry," Coulson reassured her. "I know your lunch break is coming up soon, but I need to talk to you about a...personal matter."

She froze, her arms hovering just over the box where she kept all of her samples labeled and sorted. "Sir, I don't think this is the time nor the place to-"

"It's not about you, Jemma," Coulson clarified. "Or me. But it does involve something personal in nature."

She frowned in confusion. "With all due respect, sir, I'm not sure where you're going with this."

"I may have seen one of your lab technicians run towards the broom closet. Her supervisor said she left hastily in the middle of an experiment and she seemed very...flustered. Irritated. A bit overwhelmed."

He said the last few words slowly, emphasizing them in a way that he hoped would convey his intent.

She paused for a second, and then her face relaxed with recognition, her mouth forming a small O. "I see. And...you want me to talk to her?"

Coulson sighed. "I know this is usually Dr. Garner's job, but with Lash on the loose we're a bit short-handed. We don't have time nor the available funds to hire another therapist qualified enough to take his place and this particular agent has refused all help offered to her in the past, stating, and I can quote-" He opened the folder he had been grasping and read a sentence from the bottom of the page. "'I'm fine. My grades are exemplary and my passion for my work is apparent in everything I complete. There is no need to worry about me.'"

Jemma glanced down at his folder. "Her psych evaluation?"

The Director nodded. "Taken after she was recruited a couple of months ago. Fitz and I scouted her out after she graduated from the Academy and I hired her, along with a few other outstanding candidates, to help Bobbi out with maintaining the science division while you were gone. See for yourself."

She carefully took the fat folder from him and her fingertips traced the name at the top. "Agent Bianca Whiteley," she read out loud. "Wait a second..." Her eyes widened. "I haven't met her in person yet, but I did read her dissertation on functional tissue engineering and antisense gene therapy. She's incredibly intelligent."

"Has two PhDs, just like you. One in human genetics at MIT, another in biomechanics at the Academy."

Settling down in a chair by her lab bench, Jemma continued to read the evaluation:

 _Bianca Whiteley_

 _Date of birth: May 21, 1994 (21 yrs)_

 _Residence: Angleton, Texas, USA._

 _Appearance: Strawberry blond hair, blue eyes, 5'3", 120 lbs_

 _Physical health: Optimal_

 _Field skills: Gymnastics, karate._ _Passed the field assessment (Attempts: 1), possesses enough skill to go on field missions._

"Two works presented at the American Society of Mammalogists 2014 and Genetics Society of America 2015 conferences," she read out loud, her voice descending to a murmur. "Wow...she's more than qualified for a lab tech position."

"And we're lucky to have her. But she's young, just like you and Fitz were at the beginning. She's still trying to find her place in a world that's growing weirder and more stressful by the minute and she's still very vulnerable to change. Flip to the next page."

She did as Coulson suggested and her eyes widened as they fell upon a list of doctor's visits, therapy sessions, and prescribed medications with glaring cancellation dates.

"My reaction, too," he commented, leaning casually against her bench. "For such a prestigious scientist, she has a bit of a hard time dealing with stress."

 _Why was she prescribed so many medications?_

Jemma's question was answered upon skimming one of the therapist's comments: "Patient put on appropriate medication after claiming that the mental exercises given did not improve her mental well-being."

In that moment, she couldn't help but recall a time where she had once scoffed at Dr. Garner's exercises, claiming that there was no way drawing squares on a piece of paper and keeping a diary would succeed at re-wiring her brain. The psychiatrists and therapists assisting Agent Whiteley weren't steering her in the "right direction"... they were just helping her continue to avoid the problem.

Maybe, just maybe, the young agent needed some reassurance from a friendly face.

"It means a lot that you shared this confidential information with me," Jemma said as she closed the file and returned it to Coulson. "I can set aside some time to talk to her before my break."

"Thank you, Simmons." He tucked the file underneath his arm. "She's a good kid. You don't find a lot of people like her at this age. Normally SHIELD would suspend agents in her current mental state from work, but she has potential. She deserves a second chance."

 _Just like I did._ The thought popped into her head before she could quash it. "I understand, Sir. If you don't mind..."

She glanced at the doorway and Coulson nodded as he stepped aside to let her pass. "Go ahead."

After taking a right down the hallway, Jemma halted a little ways down at a rusty metal door. She tried the handle, even though she suspected ahead of time that it would be locked anyway. She hesitated a second before knocking softly. "Agent Whiteley?"

She swore she heard a gasp on the other side, but otherwise her knock was met with silence. "It's Dr. Simmons. May I please come in?"

"Um...sure," a wobbly, unsure voice finally answered.

Jemma waited patiently for the lock to click before cracking open the door, and a tiny frame huddled in a dark corner met her gaze once her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting.

"Dr. Simmons!" Agent Whiteley exclaimed, brushing some dust that had fallen from the shelf above off of the sleeves of her sweater. Her embarrassment over being caught was evident in the way she held herself, slightly slouched with a determined refusal to look her superior directly in the eye. "It's an honor to meet you! I swear this isn't what it looks like, I'll get back to work immediately-"

"Bianca."

Clearly taken aback by the use of her first name and the gentle hand that now rested on her shoulder, Bianca fell silent. She chewed on her bottom lip and hung her head, and Jemma noticed how hard she was attempting to hold back her tears. "I'm not here to reprimand you," Jemma said as she noticed how the fear of judgment in Bianca's eyes reflected her own a couple of weeks ago. "I'm here to help."

"Wh-why would you possibly want to help me?" Agent Whiteley mumbled, sniffling loudly. "I'm just one of the lab techs and you probably have a lot of work to get done. We've never interacted before, even in the lab. With all due respect, what could you possibly know about me that I don't already know?"

Bianca's Southern accent intermingled with her words, and since she wasn't accustomed to hearing this particular accent, Jemma had to strain a bit to decipher the agent's blubbering.

"I'm going to tell you something and you have to promise me you won't get mad." The slight nod of Bianca's head gave her permission to continue. "With the Director's permission under full confidentiality, I may have read your psych evaluation."

As expected, the agent gasped and the color drained from her face. "But please, there's nothing to worry about! This is only between you, me, and Director Coulson, no one else," Jemma said quickly.

The shoulder underneath Jemma's hand vanished as Agent Whiteley retreated to her corner. "This is so embarrassing," she moaned as her back slid down the wall, and she covered her face with her hands. Soft sobs escaped her and the empathy growing in Jemma's mind was strengthening by the minute. Upsetting the young agent had not been her intention and the fact that it seemed like she was only making matters worse planted tiny seeds of doubt in her mind. How could she help someone who didn't want to be helped?

Patience. Of course. Thankfully, Jemma had plenty of that.

She walked over to where Bianca was sitting and sank down beside her. "I know it is. Nothing is worse than crying in front of your boss." The young lab tech curiously peeked at Jemma through the cracks of her fingers. "Trust me, I would know. I've done it a few times, and not just in front of Director Coulson. It happened at the Academy, too."

"Really?" Bianca asked. "Then clearly your reputation clearly precedes you. They talk about you all the time at the Academy- well, both you and Dr. Fitz, of course- and with all you've accomplished...I just can't imagine you acting like that."

Jemma nodded in understanding. "With people you look up to, do you tend to idolize them? Put them on a pedestal, I mean."

Bianca's posture strengthened as she paused for a moment to think. "Yeah...I guess. Doesn't everyone do that though, imagine their role models as people incapable of imperfection?"

Jemma couldn't restrain the bitter laugh that tumbled out of her mouth. "Unfortunately. But do you really think _I'm_ perfect?" She pointed at herself.

"Um, yeah, pretty much."

"Have you even heard the 'Dr.-Simmons-got-transported-to-another-planet' rumors? That was the reason Coulson took you in, you know."

Bianca's expression change from one of disbelief to one of complete and utter shock. "Wait...that was actually true? You...you were swept off to another _planet_?"

"Mhm." Now it was her turn to be candid, not just to Bianca but to herself as well. "It was one of the most terrifying experiences of my entire life."

Bianca bit her lip. "I...I can imagine." At least she appeared to be calming down.

However, while Agent Whiteley was now more invested now in Jemma's story than in her own emotions, Jemma's heart started to beat more erratically, but she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, calmed by the vision of a rustic cottage in Scotland that she conjured in her mind.

"Most of the time that I was there, I wasn't thinking; I was feeling," she explained. "I was feeling the adrenaline rush when the gust of a sandstorm or a roar of a monster echoed through the air. I was fixated on the dryness of my throat and the pang of hunger gnawing in my stomach. The only thing that kept me from going crazy was a picture on my phone. That picture, that piece of home and that sprig of hope, kept me alive. It- he, I mean- saved me."

She snapped out of her own daze and glanced at Bianca, who was hanging on her every word. "I know PTSD and what the doctors think you have aren't the same thing, but I'm sure whatever intensity of emotions you experience every day bears some resemblance to at least one of those feelings that I just described."

Bianca moved her head up and down vigorously. "Yes, yes it does. I feel like I'm stuck in this perpetual state of panic and I can't snap myself out of it. I interpret everything, _everything_ , as a deadline. It doesn't matter if it's picking out clothes for the day or making plans with friends or executing a science experiment- if I don't do things perfectly, I automatically think of myself as a failure. And when all of those expectations combined with a set deadline are hurled at me all at once...I suddenly feel like..." She paused to wipe away the tears threatening to fall. "Like I'm suffocating. Or drowning. Or both at once, I don't know."

Jemma's face scrunched up as the unpleasant memories came flooding back. "I know those feelings, too. They're not pleasant at all."

They sat in the corner in silence in contemplation. "I'm sorry I pushed all of this on you," Agent Whiteley finally said. "Therapy sessions with your boss are not something I am used to having."

This prompted a laugh out of Jemma. "Well, Coulson has a rather extraordinary team on his hands. And he'd like you to continue to be a part of it."

"Really?" Bianca questioned as Jemma helped her up. "Even though I just screwed up an experiment that ruined two weeks' worth of the synthesis of a drug that could heal surface tissue damage within seconds?"

Pursing her lips, Jemma held her hand up. "One mishap at a time, Bianca. And everyone makes mistakes, especially when adjusting to new circumstances."

Suddenly, a thought popped into her head. It was a tad inappropriate, but it was a worth a shot if it would make Agent Whiteley more at ease with her work. "Tell you what: when you have succeeded with your next task, I'll buy you a drink and tell you about _all_ the mistakes I made while working on Coulson's team, starting with how I got infected by an alien virus and tried to jump out of a plane."

Bianca froze. "Wait, what?! You did that?"

Jemma couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit embarrassed by Bianca's fascination. "It's a long story. Fitz was going to grab a parachute and save me, but another agent beat him to it."

Bianca eyed her warily, failing to hide her giggling. "Hold on...are you and Dr. Fitz a _thing_? An item?"

Rolling her eyes, Jemma ushered Bianca out of the closet. Once the door shut behind him, she gave Bianca a stern look. "That's classified."

Unbeknownst to her, the way Jemma's face had lit up at the mention of his name had given her away. And as she turned on her heel to head back to the lab, Jemma heard a snicker and whispering echoing behind her. "I knew it! They're totally doing it."

At least Bianca wasn't anxious anymore. And both of them had gained a confidant in the end. Jemma would count that as a victory in her book.

* * *

 **~December 20, 2015~**

Fitz's room was silent with the exception of soft snores coming from his side of the bed. Or, at least that was his status currently. Jemma had learned over the past couple of days that the few moments of peace Fitz experienced in his sleep nowadays did not last very long.

She glanced over at his stoic form, her eyes raking over him from head to toe. His knuckles clenching the corners of the pillow like it was his lifeline, his back hunched over his knees, his breathing staggered in uneven intervals as whatever nightmare he was experiencing flooded his senses. If her guess was accurate, he probably wouldn't be able to distinguish fantasy from reality if his sleep was interrupted.

Then came the whimpering. Although Fitz's back was facing her, Jemma could see the pillow folding as he clutched the pillow tighter and started rocking back and forth on his side. Witnessing his pain as he lived a silent nightmare that she used to know all too well, sent an ache of empathy through her.

She sighed and drew her covers closer to her chest. It shouldn't have ended like that. The tables shouldn't have turned that quickly. Fitz should have never gone to that planet instead of her, shouldn't have had to experience the horrors of the sand whipping around him as a chill, cold as ice and ominous as the devil, ripped through his soul. A leather necklace, the last remaining evidence that Jason had ever existed on that planet, was all Fitz had brought back to her, yet she could not imagine why he would risk his life just to bring her back a sentiment of the friend she had lost to Maveth.

Sure, both of their lives had been threatened. She would have been all but left for dead had she nor Fitz cooperated with Malick and his army of Hydra goons, but her death would have left a gaping hole in Fitz's life that he was not ready to bear, already proven by the efforts expended on her return from that dastardly planet. The scars of her torture were fading, merely superficial gashes and bruises on every limb of her body, but the memory of Giyera attempting to crush her organs with so much as a lift of his finger stuck with her. Her stomach turned at the mere thought of food most days, and she had to fight off panic attacks before falling asleep due to the ghost of a human hand squeezing the blood out of her heart.

However, she had learned how to heal both her body and mind from the traumas of the past, thanks to Dr. Garner's expertise. Fitz, on the other hand, hadn't been so lucky, as Dr. Garner had transformed into Lash and disappeared before SHIELD could bring him back into custody. He didn't possess the mental training Jemma had obtained, and his physical isolation from everyone wasn't doing him any good either. Over the past couple of days, Jemma only saw him during the nighttime, only because he needed someone close to help him sleep and soothe him from his nightmares. As someone who had endured the influx of nightmares and restless sleep, she was more than willing to help- and not just to provide him with cuddles and kisses if need be.

"Jemma."

Her name came out in a mumble, soft and vague enough for Jemma to question if it had been vocalized consciously. "Fitz?" she asked hesitantly.

"Jemma, no, I-I can't do this. I won't," he muttered. In a matter of seconds, his whole body was overcome with tremors and gasps. "You can't make me. "

Jemma's breath caught in her throat. "Fitz." Her nails clawed into his shoulder as she shook him more vigorously. "What happened? What did I make you do?"

His voice then descended to a low growl, the determination in his voice startling her. "You're. Not. Real!"

And then Fitz cried out, his scream jolting him upright. He ripped himself from Jemma's grasp and frantically looked around. "Jemma? Where are you?" he practically shouted, his voice ragged from sleepiness.

Jemma snapped into action, twisting his shoulders to face her. "Fitz, I'm right here," she said. Her thumb met cold, damp skin as she tenderly stroked his cheek. "Come back to me. It's just a dream."

Fitz's eyes widened, almost as if he had seen a ghost. "It's really you? You're-you're not-"

He flung himself into her unsuspecting arms, and Jemma inhaled sharply as he squeezed her tightly against her chest. "Oh thank god, I thought- well, I don't know what I was thinking, frankly-"

"Fitz." Jemma wriggled in his grasp. "My ribs."

"Oh, sorry," Fitz apologized, letting her go. "I just..." Jemma heard a _smack_ as his head fell into his hands. "The whole thing felt so _real_ and-"

"Fitz, slow down. You're not making any sense."

As Fitz calmed down, Jemma's concern grew. He told her about the events that happened on Maveth, but it was clear to her that he didn't reveal the whole story. What happened there that was causing him to have such bad nightmares?

"I'm sorry, Jem, I didn't mean to burden you with this-"

"The only reason it's a burden is because I'm worried sick about you!" Jemma burst out. "You didn't come out of your room for days after we rescued you, and now you're screaming in the middle of the night, calling out my name like I did something _horrible_ to you."

"No, no, no, that's not it." Fitz pinched the bridge of his nose, his hand clenching into a fist at his side. "You...you were in the dream, yes, but it wasn't _you_."

Jemma wrinkled her nose. "I...I don't follow," she said carefully, trying to piece the riddle out.

"You know how you saw a monster on the planet?"

She nodded slowly. "Well, I didn't see the monster on Maveth, but I saw something- well, _someone_ \- else." His eyes met hers, bleary and haunted. "You."

Jemma's mouth went dry. "How is that even possible?"

Fitz adjusted his position, leaning on his side so that he was directly facing her. "Did Jason notice anything...I don't know, strange about the planet? Besides the monster, of course," he corrected himself quickly.

Her expression became pensive. "He _did_ believe that the planet had moods..." she recalled, and she couldn't help but bark out a laugh at the memory. "Which led him to compare it to a hormonal teenage girl."

"And the monster and the sandstorms...they often hindered your chances to escape Maveth, right?"

Jemma shook her head in disbelief. "What are you getting at, Fitz? You're saying that the planet is...alive? Like there was some sort of spirit or being trying to prevent us from leaving?"

"Don't act all surprised, Simmons," Fitz snapped, to which Jemma recoiled slightly. "Stranger things have happened to us. Portals between worlds, bodies floating and materializing out of thin air, the GH-325 serum guiding Inhumans and Coulson to the temple..." He looked at her pointedly. "It could have been anything."

Unnerved by his confession, Jemma shifted uncomfortably. "Alright then, I believe you. Continue."

Fitz took in a deep breath and settled himself against his pillow. "Coulson had just caved Ward's chest in and the portal had just opened. We had 90 seconds to jump through the portal before it closed. I was yelling to Coulson to hurry up, but just before I approached the portal...you showed up."

He gulped and stared down at his clasped hands. "I knew you weren't real, of course, that you weren't really on the planet with us. I almost thought that I was hallucinating you, actually, like I did the last time. But whatever it was blocked my way, said it couldn't let me leave. It said that the only way that I could leave...was to shoot it. Shoot it right between the eyes. Shoot _you_."

Scooting closer to him, Jemma placed a hand over his, his fingers still interlocked tightly together. "You knew it wasn't me, though," she said softly. "I was in the control room until I freed myself and May found me outside."

Fitz's voice took on a harsher tone. "Yes, I was _aware_ of that, but that thing was _you_! It had your voice, your mannerisms, your personality, almost like a complete replica. And..." He gestured to her pajamas. "You were dressed in the outfit I found you in, on Maveth."

Jemma felt his hands clench tighter (if that was even possible) underneath her touch. "After all we've been through...after seeing that video of you on Maveth, after hearing how much you had to suffer through on that planet, after _everything_ we've been through over the past couple of years...do you think I would _want_ to shoot you, even if it wasn't actually you standing there?"

She cringed inwardly as the gravity of the situation hit her. "I see what you're saying," Jemma whispered, lowering her eyes to the mattress. She traced a stain in the sheet, probably left over from one of their past movie nights, she assumed. Fitz did have a tendency of knocking drinks over when he was emotionally invested, usually into her lap, to which she would scold him and clean it up before it made a permanent stain. Unfortunately, it didn't seem like this one was fading away anytime soon.

"But I had to do it," Fitz said after a pause, and he could barely get the words out of his mouth. "I shot the gun, with real bullets, at you. And you collapsed. Your body was twitching as whatever gave you life bled out of you...and I-" He choked up, failing to stifle the tears dripping from his eyes. "I can't get the image out of my head. It haunts me every night."

The pang that subsequently ran through her chest was too much to bear. If there would have been any option to spare Fitz from living her nightmare, lost and disillusioned with no easy way out but to deal with the constant pain and guilt running through every facet of his body...she would've done it, no matter the cost. Is this how he felt, watching her writhe and cry out in the middle of the night? Helpless, powerless, only capable of serving as a shoulder to lean on as he relived those horrific moments over and over again, like a tape recorder stuck on repeat?

No. She was a survivor. And a survivor would use the skills he/she acquired to prevent others from suffering. Fitz was technically a survivor, of course...but he was so much more than that.

He was _hers_ : her favorite word, her favorite person, her favorite song to fall asleep to at night. And nothing but love roared through her veins when she swooped in for a kiss, lingering long enough for an impression to sear upon his immobile lips. "Fitz," Jemma accentuated, and her thumb moved to wipe a tear off of his cheek. "You _will_ get through this. I know you can."

"I'm _damaged_ , Jemma," Fitz whispered, resting his forehead against hers. "I have been for a while now. This just adds on to the laundry list of things that scream 'pity me 'cos I can't do anything right. You've witnessed it before. I'm not going to push you away by thrusting this onto you."

"There's one thing you misconstrued, Fitz."

His lip trembled but stopped as Jemma ran her fingers through his hair.

"Who says I'm going anywhere?"

"Jemma, no-"

"Why not? I've _been_ where you are now, Fitz! Trust me, you don't want to be alone. And you're not damaged, Fitz. You're different." She poked him lightly on the shoulder. "And there's nothing wrong with having a couple of extra idiosyncrasies here and there, right?"

Fitz managed a watery smile to accompany her laugh. "Yeah, I s'pose so." One of his hands relaxed and moved to join the one cradling his cheek. "I seem to recall a very wise person reminding you of the exact same thing."

"Oh yes, that person was _incredibly_ smart," Simmons gushed. "Handsome, too. " She flashed him a wry smile and couldn't resist prodding his shoulder again. "Though I don't want to puff up that big, pasty head of his with millions of compliments."

This time, it was Fitz who pulled her in for a kiss. "You know I love you, right?" he breathed against her lips. "That you're the best thing that has ever happened to me?"

"I-" Jemma struggled to speak amidst the elation coursing through her. "I may have been vaguely aware of that." She leaned in again, savoring the way the comfort of his lips felt like home, a place she never wanted to leave. "We'll get through this together. I promise."

Pressing a kiss to his temple, she burrowed herself under the covers once more, receptive to the arm that Fitz snaked around her, pulling her close to his chest. "Stay with me," he pleaded, though Jemma couldn't discern exactly why. "Please."

She relaxed in his embrace and threaded her fingers through his, pulling their entwined hands close to her heart. "Of course," she murmured against his knuckles. "Always."

* * *

 **~May 20, 2016~**

Jemma stared at the rows of filled seats in front of her in disbelief. Never had she seen the auditorium of the Academy so full for a presentation or lecture for which attendance wasn't mandatory. She had assumed that the students, burnt out from final exams but somehow energized enough to anticipate summer break, would have taken one look at her talk on the flyer and discarded it immediately, scoffing at the mere possibility of engaging in yet _another_ assembly after the numerous ones they had to attend during the year. But this, the fact that 100 students and faculty were crammed into this relatively small space and climbing in number, was truly unexpected.

Did Agent Weaver bribe them with graduation perks if they came to her presentation? Or maybe her reputation preceded her more than she thought it did. Students and alum from the Science and Technology division did tend to ogle her a bit more when she introduced herself, one of the benefits of being one of the youngest students to ever graduate with a borderline-perfect transcript. Perhaps it was the word "survivor" and not "scientist" in the flyer title that intrigued them, and Jemma took pleasure in providing them a potentially fresh perspective on the challenges that come with being a scientist thrown into the unexpected position of a field agent.

"Think about it, Jemma," Daisy commented from behind, and Jemma couldn't help but smile when her friend patted her on the arm. "All of these people are here to see _you_. You really were one of the popular kids, huh?"

Jemma rolled her eyes. "If you count being the kid that everyone begged to do their homework for them, then yes."

"Oh, she's just being modest," Fitz interjected, sliding an arm around Jemma's waist. "She would chat with all the other cool biochemists after lunch before leaving to work with the lonely engineer."

The eyebrow Jemma quirked at him was to be expected. "If you didn't spend every waking hour in the lab and dragged yourself from your dwarves to join our discussions, we would've gladly accommodated you," she countered.

"But they were my creations! They had to be nurtured daily."

"Tinkering and daily modifications, I can understand. But really, Fitz, I don't think a 'designated nap time' was necessary just to charge them."

"If I remember correctly, 17 year-old Simmons thought that was quite _adorable_."

Before Jemma could respond, Hunter and Bobbi emerged from behind the screen. "Alright, what are you two squabbling about this time?" Hunter asked. They couldn't help but snicker as FitzSimmons brushed it off with a simultaneous "Nothing important" while Daisy's "Nerd stuff" was pushed into the background.

"Coulson and May are double-checking security measures while Agent Weaver is making sure everything is ready," Bobbi chimed in. "After that, you are ready to go."

Although her nerves were already starting to intensify, Jemma sent her a grateful smile. "Thanks, Bobbi. And thanks to all of you, actually," she added, gesturing to the auditorium. "I couldn't have summoned the courage to do this without your help."

The warmth emulated on their faces was overwhelming and Jemma's heart swelled. Whatever she did to deserve such a talented, caring group of agents (well, friends, really) at her side, escaped her, but she was incredibly grateful that they had come to offer their support.

"Well, we know how hard you worked to get to this point," Bobbi replied, embracing Jemma around the shoulder, and Fitz released Jemma so that she could hug Bobbi back. "And we just wanted to see how far you've come. We're proud of you, Simmons."

Daisy awed and cooed at Bobbi's words and Fitz beamed at her with a twinkle in his eyes. Hunter's unwillingness to join in, however, was apparent by his groan.

"What is this, a reality show?" he complained. "Enough with the sappy speeches! Break a leg, mate, that's all that needs to be said." He couldn't help but waggle his eyebrows. "I'm sure you'll be getting a lot of love afterwards anyway, if you know what I me-"

"Yes Hunter, w _e know_ ," Bobbi and Jemma both groaned while Daisy smirked at Fitz, making his face flush a bright pink.

The team dispersed once Agent Weaver walked up to the podium, which signaled that the talk was about to begin. Fitz kept Jemma company as Agent Weaver gave her introductory speech, his thumb swirling in reassuring circles on her knuckle, while Daisy and the others sat in the front row.

"Do you need anything?" Fitz murmured in Jemma's ear. "Water, tea, biscuit, or..." He shrugged his shoulders as he ran out of items to list.

Jemma smiled. "I'm fine, Fitz, thanks. I'm not nervous." Why should she be nervous? She had spoken in front of large crowds of people before! With the numerous lectures, conferences, and meetings she has participated in over the years, this one should be a piece of cake.

But this talk was different. It was personal in nature, revealing all the inadequacies she had acquired over the past year or so. What if this somehow tarnished her flawless reputation? Imperfection did not come easily to Jemma, and she reveled in her stellar academic standing as Dr. Simmons, biochemist... not as Agent Simmons, the girl afflicted with PTSD. She could only hope that the speech she had devised would communicate her message to the audience.

Psychic link or not, she was still a terrible liar. "Jemma," Fitz deadpanned, his eyes immediately darting to the fingers of her free hand, which was fiddling with a strand of hair at quite a rapid pace.

Sighing, Jemma tersely put her hands on her hips. "Okay, just a little bit nervous. This is a very...different kind of talk than what I'm used to."

Fitz raised a finger to his chin, stroking his stubble thoughtfully. "No, it's not."

Jemma blinked. "Come again?"

"Sure, you're talking about your own personal experiences, but present this like your thesis," Fitz reasoned. "Introduce your topic, talk about your thoughts as if they were hypotheses, list your observations, and-"

"-use my results to emphasize my conclusion!" Jemma finished. "Brilliant, Fitz! I don't know why in the world I didn't think of that before..."

He shrugged, moving a hand to lightly massage the back of her neck. "You'll be fine, Jemma. I'll be right here if you need me."

She leaned back slightly into his touch, relishing in the feel of his fingers smoothing out her tense muscles, and then placed a kiss on his cheek. "Thanks for being here for me."

"Of course. I wouldn't miss this for the world."

They both froze in place as Agent Weaver's voice strengthened. "And now, I would like to welcome Dr. Jemma Simmons to the stage to speak about her life out in the field."

The applause was polite, and Jemma was relieved that the clapping wasn't more thunderous; it made her undertaking feel less like her acting out a play and more like the lectures she used to attend at the Academy. Fitz gave her one last squeeze before she approached the podium.

Her fingernails traced the wood, a reminder of what she was about to do, and she took a deep breath. The faint trickle of sweat down her temple made her grimace internally, but she ignored the distraction, instead choosing to let her prior mental preparation guide her.

"I remember as a little girl that I dreamed of being held in such regard." She kept her gaze focused on her folded hands, smiling shyly. "My parents always told me I would make a better adult than a kid."

A few laughs echoed through the auditorium, and that is when she chose to look up, attempting to channel a somewhat-feigned confidence to the audience.

"For those of you who are not familiar with my work, I am Dr. Jemma Simmons, biochemist. I have two PhDs in molecular biology and chemistry and I am currently an agent of SHIELD, where I am one of two heads of the Science Division. I have won many accolades for my work with neurotoxins and how they can be used effectively to capture high risk targets while reducing the amount of fatalities. I've been with my team for a couple of years now and my time in the field...well, let's just say that it has been quite an interesting experience."

More soft fits of laughter erupted from the audience and she glanced over to see Daisy, Bobbi, and Hunter smiling and shaking their heads. "See, when I introduce myself in this way, respect is instantly garnered. When people hear the words 'doctor' and 'accolades' and "PhD,' a perception is formed of me in their minds. I may be a scientist and the other half of 'FitzSimmons'...but there is much more to me than my academic reputation."

She stepped onto the stage and shrugged off her blazer, revealing a torn, sodden blouse that was clearly missing its sleeves. "What if I had presented myself in this shirt, with hair crackling from buildup of sand and dirt and long, dirt-filled nails to match? What if I had a cut on my forehead, a scar that I kept stroking every time I noticed it was there? What if I said that I had done the unthinkable and had survived six months on a desert planet, in another solar system, on scarce amounts of food and water? You would all probably think I was going nuts!"

A collective murmur met her in response. "This, what I just described, believe it or not..." She gestured to her blouse as she stroked the fabric fondly. "Was me just a year ago. Sucked into the ebb of a liquefying, ancient monolith with no evident way of returning home. I suffered PTSD upon my return, and nightmares have haunted me ever since."

Straightening her back, Jemma slid her blazer back on and returned to the podium. "Now, if you had no idea who I was and I had started my talk saying that I was a PTSD survivor, not a renowned scientist...would you think of me any differently?"

A thick fog of silence spread as the gravity of her statement settled over her audience. "Exactly. We don't share this information because society has taught us to be ashamed of it, to hide even the littlest of flaws. We're taught that depression renders a person incapable of happiness, chronic anxiety makes us 'cowardly' and 'unreliable,' and the combination is pretty much a death sentence if you're hoping to get hired. But underneath all of that, we are normal people. Or however normal is perceived these days." She mutters the last sentence under her breath.

"I am here to tell you that there is a way out. It's not a cure, but it's a way to communicate to people that no obstacles will stand in the way of who you want to be and what you aim to accomplish in life. All it takes is a well-established support system-" Jemma's eyes fell upon Daisy and the others as she beamed at them. "-people who will be there for you no matter what."

With this, she flashed a shy grin at Fitz, who gazed back at her in awe. "And a determination to surmount the odds stacked against you. If you think you can't succeed...you won't. As simple as this mentality seems to follow, I have fallen into that quicksand too many times to count and I can tell you now it is hard to break yourself free from that vicious cycle. But it is possible to escape. It is possible to ignore the stigma of mental illness and process all of that negative thinking in another way. Mental illness does not control you, and it certainly does not mean you are damaged. In fact, it shows that you are stronger than ever, perfectly capable of overcoming the obstacles in your way."

Shaking her head in contemplation, Jemma reached into her pocket to pull out her clicker. "With that being said...My name is Jemma Simmons. I am a scientist, an agent, and a conqueror of mental illness. And this-" A picture filled with two moons, an iridescent blue sky, and a rocky terrain popped up suddenly on the screen. "is my story."

* * *

 _I'm hoping to eventually clean up the other chapters (if I remember to do so) and add bolded dates so that a set timeline can be defined and followed throughout Jemma's PTSD arc. Thanks for reading!_

 _And a special thanks to Paige (a.k.a. superirishbreakfasttea on Tumblr) for beta-ing this last chapter! I hope my recreation of Jemma's PTSD arc lived up to your expectations :)._


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